


The Short Straw

by BakerGrey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, All Human, Angst, Blow Jobs, Cigarettes, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Drunk John Winchester, Hand Jobs, High School AU, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, John Winchester - Freeform, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's Bad Parenting, M/M, Oral Sex, Self-Harm, Smoking, eventual destiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1502483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerGrey/pseuds/BakerGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t cut to make himself feel alive. He doesn’t do it because he likes the way his flesh scars over. He does it because he has to, because he can’t find a way to stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You think we're in the same boat. But I've fallen overboard.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a high school AU. It will get angsty and mention self-harm. If that is not for you step away from the fic.  
> 

Upon meeting he doesn’t think much of Dean. 

Dean with green eyes so bright he has to roll his own a couple of times just so he doesn’t scream at the top of his lungs.

Not that he ever would.

Dean’s just like them.

Perfect and the opposite of Castiel.

Castiel who’s all pale skin and purple lidded blue eyes that feel raw in their sockets. 

Probably because he doesn’t sleep much. Hasn’t for a while now. 

And so on the day that Dean, Dean who’s been in his chem class for 2 years now, finally notices him, he doesn’t really give the situation all he’s got.

It’s the old cliché; they’re paired up for some shitty assignment Castiel can’t really give a fuck about.

So when Dean slumps down next to him, sticks his hand out in some sort of bored greeting, Castiel doesn’t take offence. In fact he doesn’t do anything other than stare Dean dead bolt in the eyes as if to say ‘Fuck off’.

Dean squares slightly at that. He’s not used to this kind of reception and Castiel can tell.

But he doesn’t respond with any remark, which disappoints Castiel to say the least. 

Then again, Dean doesn’t seem like the shiniest jewel with regards to intelligence. Or at least that’s how he makes it seem in chemistry class.

Their assignment sounds pretty simple, long but simple. And Castiel can feel himself counting down the seconds before class is over and he can just get the fuck out of here. 

He’s tapping his pen insistently against the table watching the minutes pass by when Dean finally snaps. 

His fingers grasp Castiel’s pen and he hisses “Stop that,”

Castiel twists the pen from his reach defiantly.

“Jesus,” Dean mutters turning his attention back to the front of the class.

“Dick,” Castiel murmurs, but Dean doesn’t pay it any notice.

And for some reason Castiel’s all of a sudden glad. 

Glad that the prefect Dean Winchester is his chem partner. 

Because maybe just maybe he’s not the one whose pulled the short straw. 

This time it seems he’s left that one up to Dean.

xxxx

The second time they interact Castiel smells like cigarette smoke. 

He thinks that’s what triggers it.

The reaction he’s been waiting for from Dean. 

He’s turned up 15 minutes late to chem class purposefully.

They’re still paired up for the assignment; the one Castiel can’t give two shits about. 

He’s knows at some point it’s going to require some out of class effort.

The idea of having Dean in his home, his room, causes his skin to prickle over.

When he does pull out his notebook Dean shifts towards him fractionally. 

“Can I help you?” Castiel snaps.

“You stink,” Dean retorts, eyes not meeting Castiel’s.

“Good,”

Dean scoffs at that.

“That shit will kill you,”

“That’s the idea,” He breathes.

“Look man, I gotta ask, why are you such a prick?” 

Castiel’s eyes widen comically, before he shrugs and meets Dean at eye level.

He exhales a slow breath in the other boy’s direction.

Let’s the stale stench of tobacco linger in the air.

“Fucker,” Dean grimaces.

They sit in silence for 5 minutes.

“You ever tried it?” Castiel asks him.

“What?”

“Smoking,”

“No, that shit’s a dirty habit,”

Heh, Castiel had a lot of those.

“Pussy,”

Dean actually smirks at that.

“For what? Not wanting to turn my lungs to dust?”

Castiel shrugs.

“No, you do resemble one though,”

Dean doesn’t know whether or not he can find it within himself to feel offended, he’s finally got the dark haired boy talking, even if it is in insults.

“All pink lips,” Castiel explains, eyes drifting towards said facial part.

Dean clears his throat at that.

“Whatever dude,” He sighs, before returning to his work.

He doesn’t however shift away from Castiel.

xxxx

Castiel acknowledges that there is something odd about Dean Winchester.

Green eyed Dean.

Dean who makes about as much effort as Castiel does.

Yet somehow Dean is known.

Well liked.

Castiel puts it down to his good looks and rumoured ‘slutty’ endeavours with a large percentage of the high schools female population.

Not that Castiel listens to rumours. 

And even if Dean were a ‘slut’, it wouldn’t be any sweat off of his back.

Perhaps he’d prefer it that way.

Only he’ll never know because he’d rather not ask Dean questions, period.

He comes to this conclusion whilst entering his hallway.

The lights are out. But that doesn’t mean he’s home alone.

He’s got a lit cigarette between his lips as he walks along the landing towards the kitchen.

“Castiel?” He hears the voice of Gabriel, his older brother. He’s sad to admit he’s got more than just the one.

He doesn’t reply, too busy inhaling smoke into his lungs.

Gabriel’s sat in the dim darkness at the kitchen table. 

“I thought it was you, smell of cancer and whatnot,”

Castiel smirks at that.

“I thought I told you no smoking in the house, it stains the walls,”

Castiel flicks ash onto the tiled flooring to emphasise that he sure as hell doesn’t care.

“Little shit,” Gabriel snaps, but his tone of voice is light. It always is.

“Why are you sitting in darkness?” Castiel enquires. 

“Oh, headache,”

“Too many Captain Morgan’s again?” 

“Shut it you,”

“You should probably go easy on Balthazar’s stash,” 

“As if that oaf cares,”

Only Balthazar does care and that’s why Gabriel does it.

Balthazar is another of Castiel’s brothers. Older than Gabriel, but no more grown.

“How was school?” And at that Castiel can tell Gabriel wants nothing more than to be left alone with his sore head in peace.

“Shit,” Castiel answers, it’s the same one he gives every time Gabriel pretends to be interested. 

“Welp, education isn’t supposed to be fun Cassy,”

Castiel leaves the kitchen after that.

Gabriel notes that there’s some sort of leftovers for him.

But he can’t be bothered to eat. 

Another cigarette will do him just fine.

xxxx

It’s only a dream.

His mother lying face down between the cracks of frozen ice.

He’s pushed her.

Shoved her onto the thin sheet covering the lake.

But she’s a tall woman, heavily boned.

And it can’t support her abrupt weight. 

So he watches in horror as the ice breaks around her.

She’s under, the drop in temperature turning her skin a pale blue.

He’s scrambling towards her, but it’s to no avail.

Strong hand gripping his shoulders, holding him back.

“It’s too late,” The voice whispers. 

And it’s right.

She’s stopped struggling.

Her body drifting towards the surface.

He stumbles back from the edge.

Escapes the person behind him.

“Castiel,” It’s Lucifer. “We need to go,”

He can’t move, he’s paralysed.

But Lucifer’s voice is becoming more urgent.

“Come on,” He’s ordering. 

He’s pulling Castiel away.

She’s dead.

Castiel’s killed her.

His throat is constricting, he can’t speak. Has no words to say.

It was an accident. Wasn’t it?

Lucifer’s got him on his feet, but Castiel can’t turn away from the ice.

“Go,” His older brother demands.

No.

“You were never here,”

Castiel doesn’t move.

“Go!” The instruction rocks his core.

Lucifer’s hands shake him and then Castiel’s running. 

Away from what he’s done.

Running through darkness.

And then he wakes.

And remembers, he’ll never see light again. 

Because it’s not a dream.

It’s a memory.

xxxx

Castiel doesn’t attend school for the next two days.

He leaves the house, but it’s all pretence. 

He can’t really bring it upon himself to learn.

Not now that his sleeping patterns have worsened.

Plagued by thoughts of her.

The reality of his actions.

For she had been wrath.

He was fifth-teen and she had wanted to drown the queer out of him.

She had underestimated him and her grappling hands were like vices.

The only option he’d had was to defend himself.

But he had never meant for it to end with death. 

Of course Lucifer had been there.

He was her pride.

Beautiful and the perfect son.

Her death had tainted that however.

Lucifer never did return that night.

For all Castiel knew, he too was dead.

It had been three years. 

He wanted to get over it.

But murderer still echoed in his head.

For that was what he was.

Was it not?

A murderer living among the ‘innocent’.

It makes him laugh; the thought doesn’t disturb him however.

When he does get home, he’s confused to find Dean Winchester on his doorstep. 

“Fuck me,” Castiel mutters, because this really isn’t what he was expecting.

Dean holds up a wad of papers as an explanation.

“Chemistry,” He states.

That fucking project.

“Piss off,” 

“No way jerk off, you need to help me get this shit over and done with,”

“Do I?” They’re face to face, Dean’s slightly taller than Castiel, but he doesn’t feel intimidated. 

Dean’s features are too pretty to be scary right now. 

“Yeah,” Dean snaps, he shoves the papers at Castiel’s chest. “You can’t just fucking abandon ship Novak,”

“Is that so Winchester?” Castiel rolls his eyes, he needs a smoke. 

“Look, I get that you have some sort of tough guy bravado you like to immerse yourself in, but you and I both know that you’re really fucking smart,”

Castiel sniggers at that.

“Come on man, do this and then you’ll never have to deal with my shit again,”

He succumbs to that, and pulls out his keys. 

But there’s a part of him that maybe, just maybe likes dealing with Dean’s shit.

Or perhaps it’s just Dean Winchester in general.

xxxx

Castiel doesn’t give Dean the grand tour.

“Come on,” He instructs “We can use my room,”

He stalks up the narrow staircase and Dean follows begrudgingly.

His room is small and dark and smells like tobacco.

Castiel cranks open the window slightly and dumps his bag on the bed.

It’s unmade; he could probably do with changing the sheets.

He’s amused to find Dean loitering by the foot of the bed.

Castiel enjoys the discomfort.

He puts the pretty boy out of his misery.

“Sit down at the desk, I’ll go and get another chair,”

He’s already bored. 

And what Castiel really wants to do is lie down and huff about twenty cigarettes.

Instead, he descends to the kitchen slowly and considers getting Dean a drink before objecting to it.

He’s not a fucking hostess, no matter how pretty Winchester is. 

His stomach feels empty, but the only edible thing in sight is a two week old loaf.

He passes on that.

Gabriel had better fucking bring something back. 

Preferably edible and non-alcoholic. 

The house looks poor, and he knows it.

It irks him that Dean gets to see it.

Dean, who probably has a white picket fence surrounding his front porch.

It’s disgusting to think about.

So sickly sweet that he gags a little.

He drags the chair upstairs, makes sure to bash each step with the legs on the way up.

He doesn’t know why he does it. 

Maybe it’s fun.

Dean’s sitting down when he returns. 

He’s being oddly obedient.

Castiel pulls up beside him.

“Come on then fucker,” He sighs.

Dean smirks at the remark.

Weirdo.

Castiel opens his pack of cigarettes; he’s running really fucking low.

He lights ups.

Dean’s giving him a somewhat pointed look.

“It’s my fucking house” Castiel snaps.

“Whatever, just not in my face,”

Well that’s just too tempting.

He puffs out heavily. Dean grimaces and recoils from the cloud.

Castiel chuckles out loud. 

Dean eyes him at that before speaking.

“Seriously fuck off,”

“Bite me,” 

“Maybe later,” 

Dean shuffles through some papers, obviously very unprepared.

“You want a pull?” Castiel’s reclining in wait.

“Hell no,”

“Okay,”

He’s not one for going down the peer pressure route.

Each to their own.

Dean finds what he’s been looking for.

He’s been talking about a titration process for the past 7 minutes and 36 seconds. 

Castiel’s been counting.

“Castiel?” Dean’s voice sounds pissy.

Shit.  
“Fuck me, I’m bored,”

“I’ll take that as a no,”

“Regarding?” 

“Whether or not you’ve been listening,”

“Affirmative,”

Dean leans back in his own chair.

He breaks out into a grin.

“What’s so funny?”

“You are,”

“Piss off,”

He turns serious.

“What is it with you? If I had your brains I would fucking ace everything,”

Castiel nods vacantly.

“Am I wasting my time with this?”

“Yes,”

“That’s a shame,” Dean’s getting up from his chair. “I really don’t like wasting time,”

Something about his voice sounds predatory.

Castiel can tell it’s pretence. Dean needs him.

He’s going full out though.

Sighing dramatically as he puts his papers back into his backpack. 

“I guess some people don’t appreciate how easy they’ve got it,”

He can’t be angry at Dean over the comment.

Because he doesn’t know, doesn’t know that Castiel’s life is literally shit.

Nothing easy about it at all.

“Sit the fuck down Dean,”

“Why?”

“I’ll contribute,”

“Really?” Dean’s pretending to be unconvinced.

It’s annoying as fuck.

“Yeah, but I’m smoking all the cigarettes I want,”

“Deal,”

Castiel helps with the shitty work, it’s easy as hell. 

Mind numbing too.

But he does it. 

Because maybe Dean deserves it for putting up with his moods.

They’re almost done when Castiel’s stomach grumbles loudly.

Where the fuck is Gabriel?

Half an hour passes. 

He hears the front door slam accompanied by the drunken slur of ‘Cassy, I’m home,”

And just like that he regrets the thought immediately.

xxxx

Castiel feels hot all over.

Like the air is being extracted from the room and his lungs are beginning to concave.

Gabriel is here. 

Dean is here.

Shit, Fuck, Shit. 

“Cassy,” Gabriel’s voice is nearing.

He stands upright.

Dean is watching him. 

“Don’t move,” Castiel instructs.

No way in hell does Dean get to see this.

No fucking way.

He’s out the door, slamming it shut.

Gabriel’s staggering up the stairs.

“Castiel,” Gabriel smiles; he’s leaning against the cream wall to keep himself upright.

“Go to bed,” Castiel orders, his voice is monotonous. 

“M’trying,” He defends, shifting forward slightly.

“Downstairs,”

Gabriel’s face is confused. His room isn’t downstairs.

“I have someone up here,” Castiel explains desperately.

He doesn’t need this embarrassment. 

Gabriel’s sparkling eyes widen before he breaks out into a grin.

“Ohhh, lemme see em,”

Gabriel shuffles up two stairs, but Castiel shoves him lightly.

“Hey!” Gabriel bites.

“Go downstairs. Now,” He will use force if necessary.

“Whatever,” Gabriel is too drunk for any real confrontation.

“Dick,” Castiel mutters.

He watches as Gabriel trails downstairs, turning to the dark living room.

He’s fuming. 

Not that he didn’t expect as much.

It’s his own fault.

For letting Dean in in the first place.

It was stupid of him to assume otherwise.

He momentarily worries that Balthazar may pull an identical stunt. 

But it’s only been two days since he fucked off to god knows where, and his benders usually lasted a minimum of four days.

He returns to his room.

Dean hasn’t moved.

He takes his place at the desk.

Finishes the last paragraph of the assignment.

He can feel Dean watching him.

Waiting, but he doesn’t push.

Castiel’s grateful at that.

Not that he needs Winchester’s pity.

He doesn’t feel sorry for himself.

He hates all that self-pitying shit.

It’s his own goddam fault.

“Done,”

Dean looks up.

“Oh?”

“You can piss off now,”

“Castiel-” 

“What?”

“I erm- it’s nothing,”

That's right.

This is nothing. Castiel’s family is not of Dean’s concern.

The taller bay awkwardly gathers his stuff.

Castiel lights up his final cigarette.

“I guess I’ll be going then,” It’s like he’s questioning Castiel, does he want him to stay?

“Bye,” He’s not looking at Dean, he’s at the window.

“Actually there is something,”

Castiel doesn’t turn to look at him.

“God, what?”

“I get it,”

“Get what?”

Just beat it Winchester.

“My dad, he erm, drinks a lot too,”

Jeeze.

“You mean he’s an alcoholic,”

Dean sighs. “Yes,”

Castiel sneers at that “Well what do you want? A fucking high five?”

Dean flinches a little.

“No,”

“I don’t need your pity Winchester,”

“I don’t fucking pity you, but I know what it feels like to have to deal with shit like that every night,”

Castiel doesn’t respond.

“And you can pretend all you want, but we both know it sucks,”

“You don’t know the half of it,”

“And you don’t know shit about me, so stop being so up yourself,”

Castiel’s looking at him now. Actually looking at him.

Dean feels like he’s being scrutinized.

Castiel’s eyes are dark.

No longer their usual cobalt shade.

“I don’t want to know shit about you Dean,” His voice is low. “I literally couldn’t give a flying fuck,”

“I do,”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to realise that we’re more alike than you think,” He’s being honest. “That I’m not perfect,”

“Yes you are,”

“My mom died when I was five,” he states. “I know you lost your mom too,”

“Don’t talk about that bitch,”

“Nobody is perfect Castiel,”

His skin is prickling and he's close to shaking with anger at the mention of his mother. The cigarette butt drops from his hand and he puts it out with his bare foot, hissing slightly in pain.

“Go home Dean,”

He nods. 

Dean actually leaves this time.

And Castiel’s head is pounding. 

He’s so utterly confused his vision blurs.

His stomach cries in protest. He ignores it. 

He’s tired.

But he won’t sleep.

He can’t.

He never can.

xxxx

Balthazar comes home on Sunday.

Just as Castiel had expected.

It’s noon when his blonde brother strolls through the front door.

“Castiel,” He greets, his throat sounds raw.

Good.

The bastard deserves it.

He doesn’t bother gracing him with a reply.

“Is Gabriel home?”

Castiel stalks off towards the kitchen.

Balthazar follows.

“Silent treatment again Cassy?”

Balthazar’s trying to make light.

Castiel wants to hit him.

But he doesn’t.

“Come on Cassy,”

He fucking hates that nickname.

“Fuck you,” He grunts.

“There we go, let it all out baby,”

Of course Balthazar thinks it’s a joke.

It’s a sick one.

Where the punch line never quite makes sense.

At least not to Castiel.

Gabriel doesn’t look up to greet his older brother as Balthazar takes a seat at the table.

Castiel stands in the doorway.

He doesn’t want to be anywhere near them.

The stench of stale alcohol overwhelms him.

But he stays put as there’s always the possibility of war between these two.

Especially when there’s drink involved.

“Gabriel,” He speaks.

“Asshole,” Comes his reply.

Castiel tries not to sneer at the hypocrisy of it.

“An asshole that’s raked in some cash,”

Gabriel quirks an eyebrow at that.

“Drug money?”

“Always,”

It’s shame that Balthazar’s deals involve his own requirement in sampling the product.

He places two stacks of tightly packed hundred dollar bills on the table.

“Weed sure sells,” Gabriel grins.

But it isn’t weed.

It’s mother fucking heroin. 

And they both know that.

Castiel has seen the needle marks blemishing Balthazar’s skin.

Gabriel never does say anything though, for he is in no place to control his brother’s actions.

And neither is Castiel.

He doesn’t want to hear any more lies, so he fucks off to his room.

At least if there’s money on the table, a fight is off it. 

He stretches out on his bed, lights up a cigarette.

The smoke he inhales relaxes him.

Sometimes he thinks it would be better if Balthazar overdosed.

Or if Gabriel choked on his own vomit or some shit.

He’d be free.

But he’d be alone.

And deep down he knows that this is their way of grieving.

Grieving the loss of her.

Their mother.

Theirs.

Not just Castiel’s. 

For to him she had been cruel.

But to his brothers she was an angel.

Taken from the world by an evil.

Castiel’s evil.

That’s what she had called his homosexuality.

And often he believes it.

So he lets them cope.

It’s the least he can do.

As he has his own mechanisms.

Smoking, yes.

But there is one other.

More effective and direct.

And when he’s cutting into his own flesh it empowers him.

He finally has control.

And so he abuses it.

Cuts his skin to ribbons.

Allows the wounds to heal.

Only to punish them once again.

xxxx

Castiel wakes on Monday morning to find 200 dollars at the base of his door.

It’s Gabriel’s doing. 

And he needs it.

Cigarettes aren’t cheap.

The feel of money in his hand lightens his mood. 

Fragmentarily.

It’s still filthy drug money.

He’s alone in the kitchen whilst he eats some cinnamon cereal.

Castiel leaves early to bulk up on tobacco.

He glares upon the disapproving look he receives for purchasing ten packs. 

He lights a cigarette in front of the cashier.

“Cunt,” Slips from his parted lips.

It’s loud enough for the middle aged woman to hear it.

Her eyes narrow.

“It’s illegal to smoke in here,” 

He sneers at her attempt to be authoritative.

Flicks ash in her direction.

Close enough to make her flinch.

He’s being a bastard.

It’s a regular occurrence on Mondays.

He’s late to school despite his prompt departure.

No one notices.

English drags.

It had once been his favourite subject.

He’s stopped liking things lately.

Everything is bitter, with a stale after taste.

It’s as if he’s lost the will to enjoy.

Everything apart from his smokes.

And his razor.

He’s already halfway through his pack of twenty by lunch.

.Castiel’s sitting on a bench behind the school, shaded from the sun.

Puffing away.

Dean Winchester appears in front of him.

“Hey,” he greets.

Castiel tenses, surprised by his sudden appearance.

What does he want?

“Can I have one of those?”

The fuck?

Reluctantly Castiel holds the packet out to him.

Dean takes one and places it between his pretty lips.

“Lighter,” He mumbles.

Castiel’s too busy staring up at him.

“Lighter,” He repeats.

Castiel hands it to him. 

It’s silver. 

Hhad once belonged to Lucifer.

“Thanks,”

Dean doesn’t return it though. 

He fiddles with it.

Castiel watches Dean inhale smoke deep into his lungs.

This isn’t his first time.

No way in hell.

Dean sits down on the bench next to him.

They’re both silent for a while.

Enjoying the polluted air.

At least Castiel is.

Dean’s knee knocks against his.

Castiel meets his eyes.

The white surrounding the green looks pinker than usual.

He pretends not to notice.

“What?” Castiel asks.

“Didn’t say anything,” Dean replies, exhaling long. 

“What’s with the sudden change of heart?”

“Guess I’m tired of being boring,”

“And smoking makes you less boring?”

“Nah, but it sure is fun,”

“Thought you hated it,”

“I lied,”

“Oh,”

“I’m trying to quit for my brother’s sake,”

Castiel doesn’t really care for an explanation, but accepts it anyway.

“You’ve failed,”

“I know that dick,”

“Well, don’t think of this as something that’s going to become a regular thing,” Castiel doesn’t really know what else to say.

“Huh? And here I thought we were going to be best smoking buds,” He’s being sarcastic.

“Fuck off,”

Dean knocks theirs knees again.

Castiel doesn’t say anything about it. 

But it does confuse him to hell.

“I guess I wanted to apologise,”

“Don’t bother,” He’s heard enough apologies to last him a lifetime.

“Sorry,” Dean apologises anyway. 

Castiel’s already over it.

“Here,” Dean sighs, placing the lighter in Castiel’s palm.

He gets to his feet. 

Lunch is almost over.

“That brand sucks by the way,” He smirks as he turns to leave.

But Castiel doesn’t dare crack a smile.

He never does on Mondays.


	2. Change can be amazing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't as long as the first. I'll try to work on that.

Dean doesn't speak to him for a while after that.

Castiel doesn't want to be offended.

He honestly doesn't.

But it’s not easy.

Not easy when everything irks you so readily.

It’s not that he wants Dean to talk to him.

It’s the fact that he _has._

He’s started something.

And Castiel doesn't like it.

Dean sees him. Sees that he’s hurting.

Castiel feels exposed.

As if Dean knows what he’s done.

Knows how his mother died.

But it’s all ridiculous.

Because of course Dean doesn’t know.

Castiel doesn’t like this paranoia.

He _doesn’t_ like Dean.

Everything is distorted, it’s too heavy.

It makes him cut.

Just to get the itch to go away.

The itch of Dean.

Only cutting is no use.

He’s feeling faint.

But he doesn’t stop.

And the itch only runs.

Down his back.

Along his thighs.

And he gives up.

Because he can’t cut it all.

 

xxxx

 

When Friday rolls around, Dean decides to _grace_ Castiel with words yet again.

This time Castiel’s in the library.

It’s raining outside.

“Hey,”

He ignores the brown haired boy.

“Hey,” Dean repeats from across the table.

 “Fuck off,” Castiel mutters.

“Bitch,” Dean huffs.

Castiel looks up to glare at him.

He sees it then.

The dark colouration of Dean’s left cheek.

“I could really use a cigarette,” Dean smiles.

 It’s forced.

And Castiel doesn’t know if he should do this.

Get involved with Dean’s shit.

He doesn’t want to.

He can’t.

But he’s getting to his feet anyway.

“Fine, you fucker,” Comes out of his mouth.

Dean follows him.

Into the rain.

It’s heavy.

“We can smoke in my car,” Dean tells him through the patter.

Castiel nods.

Not that the rain bothers him anyhow.

Dean drives a Chevy Impala.

It’s a beautiful car.

Makes Castiel wish he could afford one.

The interior is leather and Castiel feels remorse over getting it wet.

“Thanks,” Dean sighs as Castiel passes over a cigarette.

He lights one up too.

Dean rolls down both windows slightly.

The rain splatters in lightly, but Castiel needs somewhere to flick his ash.

They smoke in silence, long drags.

Castiel doesn’t want to ask about the bruise.

He ignores it.

“Shit,” Dean curses. “My brother’s gonna kill me when he gets a whiff off this,”

“Does he go here?”

“Nope, he’s private,”

Castiel nods.

Lucky kid.

“Smart little bitch,” Dean snorts, but it’s fond.

Castiel doesn’t say anything.

He’s feeling the itch.

The one he’s come to associate with Dean.

“Lunch is almost over,” He’s looking for a way out.

“So?”

He’s got a point. Castiel doesn’t give three fucks about punctuality.

 Dean’s acting weird.

It’s putting Castiel on edge.

He’s got to ask.

“Dean?”

“Huh?”

“How’d you get that bruise?”

“I thought you were pretending it didn’t exist?”

Castiel’s lips curl upwards.

“Dad,” Dean whispers.

Castiel feels like the smoke in the car is beginning to suffocate him.

Maybe it’s Dean.

Dean chuckles out loud.

Castiel looks at him.

His green eyes are glazed over.

Hard and glassy looking.

Dean’s finally cracked.

And Castiel has been too quick to judge.

Judge that Dean is the visage of perfection.

“Tell me what to do Dean,”

This isn’t the Castiel that Dean knows.

But for five minutes in this Impala Castiel softens.

“Nothing,”

“Then why am I here?”

Castiel is selfish, he needs to know for his own sake.

“You’re tainted,”

He’s right.

“And maybe we both need somebody,”

Castiel’s ready to object.

“Or maybe I just need somebody,”

“Why don’t you find yourself a nice whore or something?”

He doesn’t quite no why he says it.         

Dean’s too close. That’s why.

“I don’t want a whore,”

Dean seems angry.

“I just want a fucking friend, without any expectations,”

“I’m not the right guy Dean,”

“Fuck you,”

“I’m more fucked up than you’ll ever be,”

“And?”

“I don’t want to burden you with that,”

“You mean you’re a fucking pussy,”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re scared Castiel,”

“So are you,”

“At least I’m honest about it,”

“I don’t _owe_ you anything,”

“I know,”

“This was a bad idea,”

“Maybe you should just go,” Dean snaps.

Castiel does.

He leaves the Impala and walks home in the rain.

He’s not ready for Dean.

Dean or the itch.    

 

xxxx

 

Gabriel is unconscious when Castiel gets home.

Balthazar is drinking tea in the kitchen.

 “Why are you home so early?”

“Am I?”

“Yes,”

Castiel shrugs.

Like Balthazar gives a fuck.

“So?”

“Huh?” Castiel’s picking through some pasta.

“You, home, early, why?”

“Headache,”

“Bullshit,”

“Whatever,” His mouth is full of pesto covered penne.

“Gabriel’s been out all morning,”

“What’s new?”

Balthazar hums in agreement.

“I’m heading out tonight,” He tells Castiel.

“I should be back by tomorrow morning,”

He says it steadily, like he’s promising Castiel this _isn’t_ going to be one of those times.

Castiel nods, eyes on his pasta.

It’s suddenly too salty.

“Are you alright for cash Cassy?” Balthazar asks.

Castiel doesn’t respond.

“Castiel?”

He’s thinking about Dean.

“I’m fine,” He snaps.

Balthazar eyes him warily.

“Leave some pasta for Gabriel; he’ll be fucking starving when he wakes up,”

And with that he leaves the kitchen.

And Castiel.

Gabriel doesn’t wake up before Balthazar leaves.

Castiel watches him for 10 minutes.

His small form doesn’t move.

But he’s breathing.

Lying on his front to ensure he doesn’t choke on any upchuck.

Castiel doesn’t stay home.

He cannot spend another evening in his room.

He’s too cut up to even touch.

Fucking Dean and his stupid itch.

Dean, Dean, Dean.

_“I just want a fucking friend, without any expectations,”_

Castiel doesn’t have friends.

Dean does.

Why does he need another in Castiel?

_Because Castiel relates._

It’s fucking with his head.

His inner voice merging into the sound of Dean’s.

_It’s guilt._

He’s feeling guilty.

He hasn’t done anything but protect himself.

He needs to protect himself.

From Dean, his brothers, life.

Castiel never really follows a path.

Just walks and walks.

Thinks maybe he’ll walk far enough.

But he’s conditioned.

Conditioned to return home.

“Castiel?”

And great.

He’s hearing Dean’s voice now.

“Castiel?”

Only this time it’s louder and it’s real.

And Castiel isn’t walking anymore.

He’s lying flat against grass.

He’s fucking fainted.

What a pansy.

He’s fucking fainted in public.

His vision is hazy.

What is Dean doing here?

What is Castiel doing here?

“You alright?”

Castiel nods.

But of course he isn’t fucking alright.

“Are you going to get up?”

Castiel nods again.

He doesn’t move.

“Anytime this year would be nice,”

“Fuck off Winchester,”

He can see Dean smile.

Castiel sits up.

His head is aching.

Dean crouches in front of him.

“Need a hand?”

“No fucking way,”

Castiel braces himself and then heaves to his feet.

Dean places a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“Are you fucking stalking me?”

Dean huffs out a laugh.

“You wish Novak,”

They stand in silence.

It’s dark.

“So what _are_ you doing here?”

Castiel doesn’t believe in coincidence.

“I don’t know,” Dean sighs. “I like this park at night,”

“Weirdo,” Castiel snorts.

But he gets it. He likes it too.

“I’m-”

“Don’t,” Castiel cuts him off.

He doesn’t want Dean to be one of those people who feel the need to apologise for an action they felt was justified.

Dean looks slightly miffed.

Castiel’s over it.

“I can’t believe you actually fainted man,”

Castiel chuckles at that.

Dean joins him.

And they laugh for about 30 seconds under the light of the moon.

 

xxxx

 

They sit side by side on a low park bench for a while.

Castiel’s smoking.

Dean isn’t.

“You sure you don’t want one?”

Dean looks longingly at the lit cigarette between Castiel’s parted lips.

He shakes his head.

“Gotta quit for my brother,”

“Ever think about doing something for yourself?”

Dean gives him a pointed look.

“Do _you?_ ”

Touché Winchester.

“Besides, I don’t see how poisoning my lungs counts as ‘doing something for myself’ ”

Castiel shrugs.

He hands Dean the rest of the carton anyway.

It’s nearly empty.

“In case you change your mind,” He explains.

“I won’t,” Dean sighs.

But he tucks the small box into his jacket pocket.

“Tell me something about you,” Dean suggests.

Castiel raises his eyebrows at that.

“Fuck off,”

“Come on man, it’s not like I want nudes,” Dean smirks.

Castiel’s cheeks feel slightly flush at the thought.

He thinks momentarily.

“I really like jelly,”

“Jelly?”

Castiel nods.

Dean chuckles loudly.

“That’s deep dude,”

“I’m an ocean,” Castiel drawls.

“I personally prefer pie,”

Castiel contemplates this.

“Pie works too,”

He almost can’t believe how trivial of a conversation they’re having.

Dean’s knee knocks against his.

It’s the fourth time this evening.

Castiel plays it as accidental.

At least it had better be.

He’s not really fond of the whole touching thing.

Not with the state his skin’s in.

But _this_ doesn’t unnerve him.

It just is what it is.

“I hope I can find a way to be myself someday,” Dean remarks quietly.

Trivial is knocked out of the equation.

“Who are you now if not yourself?”

“I don’t know,”

The atmosphere is too intense again.

Dean is too intense.

Their knees knock again and Castiel’s suddenly standing upright.

“I need to go,”

Dean’s not stupid.

“I shouldn’t have said that,”

“It’s not that, I just have to go now,”

Dean accepts that.

Castiel begins to walk away.

He notices that Dean doesn’t move.

“Aren’t you going home?” He calls across the short distance in the dark.

“I can’t,”

“Well why not?”

“It’ll just be me and the old man,”

Castiel remembers the bruises scattering Dean’s freckled cheek.

He knows what it feels like to go home to fear.

And though Dean seems physically strong, Castiel can sense his mind can’t quite take the abuse.

Because that’s what it is.

He abuses himself.

“Come home with _me_ ,”

“Huh?”

He hadn’t quite meant to phrase it _that_ way.

“Won’t that be kind of weird?”

“It doesn’t have to be,”

_Castiel won’t offer again._

Dean wants to say something like ‘we’re not even friends,’ but instead he joins Castiel.

 

xxxx

 

Castiel panics about Gabriel’s state and Dean’s viewing of it.

This was a stupid idea.

He was stupid.

Dean Winchester was stupid.

Dean Winchester was _vulnerable._

Once they’re inside Castiel shoos Dean upstairs with a “You remember where my room is right?”

Gabriel isn't on the couch anymore.

The fucker’s alive.

Castiel sacrifices some food from hell’s kitchen and heads to his room.

He’s halfway there when he hears.

“And who are you exactly?”

It’s Gabriel voice, rough from a hangover.

Castiel takes the last few steps in twos.

“This is Dean,” He interjects before Winchester can open his pretty mouth.

They’re standing on the landing outside his bedroom door.

“Cassy, you didn’t tell me you were having _friends_ over,”

Gabriel looks like shit.

His hair is greasy and his eyes are swollen.

Castiel wants to hit him.

“It wasn't planned,”

“So do you have a last name Dean?”

“Uh yeah, it’s Winchester,”

“Winchester? You’re John’s son?”

“One of them,”

“Well goodnight Gabriel,” Castiel attempts.

“I knew your daddy,”

“Knew?”

“Used to work for him down at the garage for some time,”

“It’s a small town,” Dean smiles politely.

“He _fired_ me,”

“Because you know fuck all about cars Gabriel,” Castiel snaps.

Gabriel glares at him.

“He know you’re here?” He returns his attention to Dean.

“He’s not really the tab keeping type,”

Gabriel smirks slightly at that.

“You boys behave yourselves,” His tone is teasing, but there’s an air of menace about it.

Gabriel pushes past Castiel and disappears downstairs.

Castiel shoves Dean lightly into his room.

He locks the door behind him.

He doesn’t need Gabriel bursting in at any given moment.

“Food?” Castiel offers, holding up the sliced bread and peanut better he’s been holding.

Dean smiles at the sight of it.

“What? No jelly?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good stuff is yet to come.


	3. If I were religious, I'd pray for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did this in Dean's POV.  
> I don't know if it works.  
> But it is what it is.

Dean doesn’t know what to make of Gabriel.

He’s a small man.

Much smaller than Castiel or himself.

But his eyes, they hold ferocity.

The kind that Dean expects from a caring older brother.

And that doesn’t make much sense to him.

Because from what Dean has gathered Gabriel doesn’t seem to be all that loving towards Cas.

It’s an odd dynamic.

But he pushes it aside because there is a more prominent problem at hand.

Castiel.

Accepting his friendship.

Or at least that’s what it feels like to Dean.

It _is_ what he wants.

But he doesn’t really know how to go about confirming it.

Because it doesn’t feel like any other friendship he’s embarked upon.

He wonders if it’s the same for Castiel.

Only to realise that Castiel doesn’t have friends.

He doesn’t _do_ people.

But he’s warming up to Dean.

Or so he hopes.

Dean really likes him.

He gets that Castiel is suffering.

And for some reason that makes this all a whole lot easier.

Not that he’d ever wish this kind of situation on anybody.

It just comforts him to know that he isn’t the only one who benefits from some real company.

Where all _his_ pretences can be laid to rest.

Castiel still seems to want to guard a part of himself.

Dean doesn’t resent him for that.

He’ll give him time.

Dean’s always been very patient.

Always been willing to take the fall for someone else.

Especially if that someone else is Sammy.

Because Dean won’t let _him_ get to his little brother.

No way in hell will John ever lay a finger on that kid.

Not while Dean still lives and breathes.

John never would though.

It’s Dean that he despises.

Dean’s the dumb one.

The one whose friends with too _many_ girls for his father’s liking.

It’s not that he like the girls per say.

More the comfort of being away from his dad.

Away from the violence that awaits him at home.

No place like it.

 

xxxx

 

Castiel makes Dean sleep on the floor.

It doesn’t bother him.

He’s slept on many floors before.

They don’t really talk much prior to sleep.

Castiel is hungry and tired.

So is Dean.

It’s not awkward, but it is weird.

Castiel’s room smells musty and warm.

Dean likes it.

He doesn’t fall asleep though.

He counts as the time passes by.

He gets that feeling.

The one where you know the other is awake.

He wants to clarify it.

Dean likes clarification.

“Cas?”

Nothing…

“Shhh,” Comes the delayed response.

Dean is staring up at ceiling, he breaks out into a smile.

“Wait, what?”

“Just wondering if you were awake,”

“No, what did you just call me?”

Cas.

Shit.

Dean hasn’t tried that one out loud before.

“Cas,”

There’s silence.

“Okay,” It sounds reluctant.

Relief rolls over him.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I don’t,”

_Don’t?_

“Everyone sleeps,”

“It’s called long term insomnia Dean,”

“Do you ever sleep?”

“I try,”

“Shit,”

“I can nap,”

“I see,”

But to be honest he really doesn’t.

 “And yet you still had to take the bed,”

“It’s my fucking bed,”

“You’re not putting it to proper use,”

“And I suppose you would?”

“Hell yeah, I’d sleep like a baby,”

“No,”

“No?”

“It’s my bed,”

“But-”

“You’re not even fucking asleep,”

“How can I sleep when we’re having a very heated debate?”

“Debate my ass,”

Dean chuckles quietly under his breath.

“Stop laughing,”

Dean does.

They return to silence for a while.

“I don’t think your brother likes me very much,”

“Why don’t you cry about it?” He snarks.

Tired Castiel is even snappier than usual.

And at this moment he’d take a snappy Cas over a violent John.

Dean fingers the bruise on his face.

It’s sore to touch.

“Does that hurt?”

Castiel is sitting up, watching him.

Dean can make out his thin frame in the darkened room.

“Nah,”

He lies, lifting his torso up.

Castiel rolls his eyes, before leaning over and turning on a bedside lamp.

Dean squints as the light attacks his eyes.

The room is relatively warm.

Castiel is wearing long sleeves.

Dean doesn’t think much of it.

He watches the dark haired boy traipse over to the shabby black desk looking for cigarettes.

He’s always smoking.

Dean enjoys it too.

But to Castiel it’s an evident addiction.

Castiel sits at the desk smoking.

He’s watching Dean.

He holds the cigarette out to him with a quirked eyebrow.

Dean shakes his head.

He’s made a promise to Sammy.

Castiel shrugs, and goes back to watching him as he inhales.

Dean’s skin suddenly feels a whole lot clammier.

He doesn’t really know what to say.

“Stop staring,”

Is what he goes for.

Castiel doesn’t.

“You’re creeping me out,”

Castiel’s lips quirk around his cigarette.

“Good,”

“How would you like it if I stared at you like that?”

Castiel tilts his head to the side slightly.

“I haven’t got anything to hide,” He remarks nonchalantly.

It’s a blatant lie.

And they both know it.

“You’re pretty,” Castiel states, he’s still staring.

_What?_

“Gee thanks,”

“I don’t like it,”

“Sorry?”

It’s too late for this shit.

“Don’t apologise for genetics Dean,”

“What do you mean, you don’t like it?”

“Forget about it,”

“I don’t want to,”

Castiel huffs out air.

“You’re _too_ pretty,”

“Is that even possible?”

“Boys shouldn’t be so pretty,”

Dean is still thoroughly confused.

“I don’t dislike the prettiness, more rather the fact that it makes me feel as though I should be nice to you,”

It’s the most he’s ever heard Castiel say in one sitting

“How so?”

“No one likes to be the one to ruin pretty things,”

“And that’s what you think you’d do? Ruin me,”

“Of course,”

He sounds so certain.

“Friends don’t ruin each other Cas,”

“I never said I’d do it on purpose,”

“What makes you think it won’t be the other way around,”

Castiel smiles sadly.

“You can’t ruin something that’s already broken,”

 

xxxx

 

When Dean wakes up Castiel is gone.

He panics momentarily before realising that this is Cas’s house.

He wouldn’t just abandon Dean here.

_Would he?_

He figures he’s go nothing to lose by going downstairs.

Dignity was expelled from his being a long time ago.

Castiel is in the kitchen.

This time he’s accompanied by another male.

One with dark blonde hair and of a greater height than Gabriel.

“Mornin,” He mumbles at Cas and the stranger.

Another brother no doubt.

Castiel looks up at him.

He doesn’t bother to respond.

Politeness is not his forte Dean’s noticed.

“Hello,” The blonde man speaks.

“Balthazar this is Dean,”

_Balthazar?_

What is it with these names?

“And who is Dean to you exactly?”

Castiel rolls his eyes.

“A friend,”

Dean doesn’t know if he’s saying that because it’s true or because it’s an easy excuse in front of _Balthazar._

“Well then it’s very nice to meet you Dean,”

He’s nicer than Gabriel that’s for sure.

 “Likewise,” Dean smiles tightly, biting into some toast that Castiel hands to him.

“I didn’t think you had any _friends_ Cassy,”

“I don’t,”

“But Dean, he’s an exception?”

They’re talking about him like he’s not even in the fucking room.

It’s unnerving.

“Evidently,” Castiel drawls.

He looks bored.

“What about you Dean, what do you think of Cassy?”

Suddenly Balthazar doesn’t seem so nice after all.

“Cut it out,” Castiel scolds.

“I have every right to question the presence of a stranger in my home,”

Dean’s toast is cold.

“He’s not a stranger,”

“Don’t hurt him Dean,”

Dean looks at the older man.

“Balthazar fuck off,”

But he’s ignoring him.

He’s looking at Dean with a deep concern.

Like he can sense his destruction.

“He’s already suffering,”

“This is bullshit,” Castiel is angry.

That Balthazar would expose him like this.

But Dean sees it for what it really is.

_A warning._

Balthazar wants to protect Castiel.

But it rings clear in Dean’s mind.

Balthazar’s telling Dean to protect himself.

Because if Dean hurts Castiel, Castiel will only return the favour.

And being _too pretty_ won’t save him.

 

 

 


	4. I'm trouble. And so are you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit weird.   
> Some more Dean POV.

He doesn’t hang around.

Dean feels marginally guilty about aborting the situation.

But hell.

It’s not like he has much other choice.

Castiel grasps his wrist at the front door.

Squeezes it for a second.

And Dean knows that this is his version of an apology.

So he lets Castiel’s fingers linger against his tan flesh.

Because it’s the first time they’ve ever had skin on skin contact.

The white of Castiel is pure.

His fingers are cold.

Their softness contrasting with the icy feel.

He can’t even offer up a weak smile.

Balthazar’s warning is like a siren.

‘ _Don’t hurt him Dean.’_

**_Because he’ll hurt you._ **

It’s Dean’s own added after thought.

But the older brother had sure been implying that message silently.

“I’ll see you around,”

Castiel is frowning.

“Are you going to ignore me again?”

Dean can feel himself blush. Maybe for a while.

“No,” He lies.

Castiel removes his hand.

“I thought this is what _you_ wanted?” he sounds frustrated.

Dean rubs at his green eyes.

“It was your fucking idea to be friends,” Castiel continues quietly, voice sour.

“I know,”

“You-You can’t just change your mind,”

It’s the first time he’s ever heard the other boy stutter.

“I’m not, I haven’t,”

“ _Right,_ ”

“Look Cas,”

“Don’t call me that,”

Fuck he’s upset.

“ _Castiel_ , please,”

“Please what? Let you lose? Whatever Dean, fuck you,”

Dean groans in annoyance.

“I can’t handle this okay?”

Castiel swallows.

His blue eyes are staring straight at him.

They’re so so blue.

Dean can’t bare it.

“That’s fucked up Dean,”

He knows.

“Maybe your brother is right,”

Castiel glares at him for a feeling second.

 “We’re going to hurt each other Dean, because it’s a primary part of friendship, It’s fucking inevitable. Fuck I don’t even have any friends and I know that,”

Dean watches him.

Because he’s realising now that Castiel isn’t as weak as he had initially thought.

Vulnerable? Yes.

But weak? No.

Dean wishes he had that emotional strength.

Castiel sighs in defeat.

“I’m not going to beg you,”

“Not even a little?”

And Dean finally cracks a smile.

Because he’s being a pansy and now is as good a time as any to snap out of it.

“You wish Winchester,”

But Cas is smiling, albeit only a little, too.

“I’ve really got to get going,”

And with that said Dean leaves somewhat content.

He still finds himself questioning as to whether or not the outcome of his relationship with Castiel is going to be one of success.

Or if it’s even friendship he wants.

 

xxxx

 

When Dean gets home Sammy is there.

It’s a relief to see his little brother.

John’s still at work.

He thanks the high heavens.

Not that he’s religious.

“Hi,” Sam mumbles, he’s sat on the couch, laptop in hand.

“Hey,” Dean returns, slouches down next to the brown haired kid.

“You weren’t here when I got home,” Sam notes, he’s still staring at the bright screen, typing away.

“I stayed at a friend’s,”

Sam grins.

“She nice?”

“ _He_ is,”

“I didn’t know you _had_ male friends Dean,”

“What can I say? I’m moving up in the world Sammy,” He stretches his legs out in front of him.

“What’s his name?”

“Castiel,” Dean grunts out.

“That’s…”

“A mouthful?” Dean offers.

 “I was going to say interesting,”

 “Bitch,”

“Jerk,”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence.

“Well I’m happy for you,” Sam concludes

“Gee thanks,”

The kid sure acts older than fourteen.

“I had a great night, thanks for asking,”

“I was getting there,”

“Go ahead; take your time old man,”

“I’m eighteen,” Dean defends, feigning offence.

“I asked Jess to be my girlfriend,” Sam confesses quietly.

Dean grins with pride.

“Well look at you Romeo,” He nudges Sam’s shoulder.

Sam looks down sheepishly.

 “Want some dinner?” Dean asks, he doesn’t need the juicy detail just yet.

Sam nods enthusiastically.

“Let me know if you need any advice on kissing,” He calls to his younger brother from the adjacent room.

“Gross!” Sam shouts back and Dean bursts out laughing.

 

xxxx

 

The happiness is short lived.

It always is.

John comes home.

Sam’s in his room.

Dean isn’t.

And now there isn’t enough time for him to evade the older Winchester.

John sits in an armchair.

“Where were you last night?” The words come out in a string of slurs.

But Dean’s had years of practise at depicting the tongue.

“A friend’s,” He mumbles, eyes counting his toes.

“Another slut huh?”

Dean doesn’t want to talk to him like this.

Dean never wants to talk to him.

“No,” He states.

“Don’t lie to me boy,”

“M’not,” He mumbles.

“Look at me,”

Dean doesn’t.

“How was she?”

“I wasn’t with a girl,” Dean insists.

He knows it’s pointless.

“I don’t work seven days a week for you to whore around,”

He hates him.

Dean’s flesh is burning.

And in a moment of anger he silently wishes death upon the man.

There’s silence.

He looks across the distance between them.

John is unconscious.

Dean moves to stand above his hefty form.

He lowers the zipper of his jeans.

Urinates over his father’s legs.

Before retreating to his bed.

 

xxxx

 

_He’s swimming._

_He loves the water._

_But this, this is an ocean of blood._

_And then he’s pulled under._

_Gulping for air._

_Only he’s swallowing the warm liquid._

_It’s coppery and foul._

_But he can’t stop taking it down._

_It’s the only way to get back up._

_To drink through it all._

_So he keeps going._

_Until his stomach feels so full of it._

_Full of blood._

_And then he’s choking on it._

_Choking on blood, whilst swimming in an ocean of it._

_“Dean!”_

_Someone’s calling out to him._

_But he’s too busy dying._

_Bleeding from the inside out._

_Bleeding a blood that isn’t even his._

 

xxxx

 

Dean ignores the dream.

He ignores the fact that it’s the most disturbing dream he’s ever had.

Because who’s going listen to him spiel about an ocean of blood?

_No one._

That’s who.

So he’s silent as he drops Sam off at school.

And he’s silent throughout his first period.

Dean contemplates being silent forever.

Until it’s lunch and he goes looking for Cas.

He’s where he always is.

A lonesome bench, smoking his way through a ten pack.

“Hey,” Dean breathes false happiness into the greeting.

Castiel shuffles over to let Dean sit.

They sit.

No words exchanged until Dean says

“I pissed on my dad last night,”

Castiel stops mid inhalation.

His eyes brows rise in surprise and a vague intrigue.

“He was completely out of it,” He sighs, as if that justifies it.

“Why would you do that?”

“He deserved it,”

Castiel doesn’t judge.

Simply nods his head.

“I don’t- I’ve never done it before,”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me Dean,”

“He was just being such a prick you know?”

Castiel’s eyes look sad.

“Yeah,”

Dean barks out a dry laugh.

“And then I had the weirdest dream,”

“What did you see?” He asks.

“Blood,” Dean mutters, and his hands tremble.

“I don’t really dream,” Castiel tells him.

“Well aren’t you lucky,”

Castiel ignores the bitter undertones.

“It’s just a memory, repeating itself,”

“Must be pretty significant,”

“Not really,” Castiel murmurs.

Dean doesn’t bother questioning the lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking of reverting back to Cas's POV next chap.  
> Possibly.


	5. Everyday I'm Learning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's another chap based on Dean's POV.  
> Castiel's will be back in the next chapter.  
> I'm going to be updating every Sunday as of this week. :)

His mind of thinks of kissing Castiel.

It’s accidental.

Dean can almost feel his father’s extra blow that a thought like this would earn.

He’s not a homosexual.

It’s a simple as that.

And he blames the idea of plump pale lips pressed against his own on the fact that he sees Castiel’s person more than he does his gender.

Because really, it’s the first remotely bicurious thought he’s ever had in his life.

Dean _prays_ for it to be the last.

Hell is raised when his father meets him consciousness fully regained.

Because in all the years, an inebriated John Winchester has never lacked bladder control.

“You’re a filthy bitch,” and three sharp punches to his ribs follow.

He doesn’t deny it when questioned.

He doesn’t say a word.

Dean’s learnt that much.

So he takes the beating he knew was coming like the giant pussy that he is.

He doesn’t look at John and thinks of something, anything else.

And that’s how the words ‘Castiel’ and ‘kiss’ become associated with one another.

When John is done, his breath is ragged and he leaves the house.

Because it’s _Dean_ who’s the disgusting one.

Dean spends the next twenty-two minutes on the living room floor face down.

He thinks he could stay like this forever.

He doesn’t.

Sammy’s due home and he doesn’t deserve to be greeted with this.

He knows it goes on.

But Dean denies all knowledge of it.

If anything it’s to protect the kid.

Not like he thinks of it as a special something that he and ‘daddy’ _share_.

So when the knock on his door happens he cradles his left side inconspicuously and rolls his eyes.

Sam hasn’t lost his keys.

That’s nowhere near his style.

Because it’s not Sam at all.

It’s Castiel.

Of all people.

And how does he know where Dean lives?

He doesn’t even wait for Dean to let him in.

Just shimmies past him and gifts him with the sternest look he’s had all day.

“You’re not the pepperoni I ordered,” Dean quips, but Castiel doesn’t do bullshitting.

“You skipped out on me after lunch,”

“Sorry,” Dean mumbles “Didn’t realise we were official,”

“Fuck you Dean Winchester,”

“Heh, you wouldn’t be the first,”

Castiel _actually_ blushes at that, as if the thinking about Dean committing a sexual act is enough to make him flare fifty shades of _red._

Dean’s never brought up the topic of sex with Cas before. It’s the, unaccounted for, desire to kiss him that’s done it.

“You don’t offer to give a guy a ride home and the bail, that’s not very courteous,”

Since when had Dean given off the impression that he was the courteous type?

It’s his aching ribs that are making him moody.

And who can blame him?

They stand face to face in silence.

“Should I be worried about the fact that you know where I live?”

It’s his way of asking how Cas knows.

Castiel ignores it.

The pain in Dean’s side dulls his peaked intrigue.

“As much as I appreciate the visit Cas, now’s not the best time,”

“There is no ‘best’ time, only time itself and I for one appreciate wasting it,”

“Doesn’t mean you have to waste mine, buddy,”

“Actually, I do, _buddy,_ ”

“Why?”

“I’m purely living up to my end of this friendship,”

“What you’re saying is that you have no real reason for your visit,”

“Yes Dean, thank you got that clarification,”

Dean’s mood brightens at that.

He turns towards the couch but Castiel stops him.

“Not here, your room,”

Dean’s heart hammers a little.

The word ‘kiss’ comes to mind and he beats like his dad would him.

Dean’s room is smaller than Cas’s.

It’s a dark green,

There’s a slightly larger than single bed pressed against the far wall beneath his window.

It’s cracked.

Castiel sits on the bed immediately.

The polar opposite of Dean the first time he’d stepped foot in his room.

Dean takes up the space next to him.

Stretching out his legs, he winces at the vibration pulsing up his side.

Of course Castiel notices.

Because he notices _everything_ that Dean wishes he wouldn’t.

“When?” He asks.

It’s pretty easy to get the gist of what he’s enquiring about.

“About an hour ago,”

Castiel stiffens.

“I pissed on the guy remember?” Dean jokes and Castiel’s clenched jaw grinds down.

He nods tightly “I’m guessing that’s why you don’t play any sports,”

It’s so irrelevant it’s laughable.

“What’s your excuse?” Dean smirks.

Castiel swallows visibly, tense as hell.

_What’s gotten into him?_

“I would show you, but you wouldn’t understand,” he stammers out, so unlike Cas.

Dean can tell he regrets it entirely.

“What do you mean?” Dean’s body shifts to face the fair skinned teen.

“Forget it,”

“Cas-”

“I said leave it,” His tone is dark.

He’s up off the bed then.

Pacing a little.

“I need a smoke,”

“Okay,” Dean will let Castiel have whatever he wants.

He’s freaking out inside.

_What is Cas hiding?_

He doesn’t care than Sam will probably throw a hissy fit if he discovers the smell.

Or that John will rain down upon him again later on tonight.

He just wants Castiel to be content.

Cas stands and smokes.

Minutes pass by.

He smokes another and then two more.

He doesn’t offer one to Dean.

“You done?” Dean questions.

Castiel seems a hell of a lot more relaxed now.

He nods.

“Sorry,”

“What was that?”

“I apologised,”

“What for?”

“Whatever the hell I just did,”

“It’s no problem,”

“Dean,”

“Yeah Cas?”

“I will explain, just not today,” He says it slowly.

Like he’s jumped into a river on impulse only to realise the water is colder than he initially thought.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,”

“I know, but I would like to,”

Dean smiles at that.

“I’d like that too,”

Another minute of silence.

“Are you going to keep standing there?”

Castiel realises himself and returns to his earlier position.

Their shoulders touch.

The room is smoke filled.

Sam is going to bitch at this for sure.

“I want to meet your dad,”

Dean pales at the thought.

“Why?”

“He angers me,” Castiel replies shortly with a shrug of his shoulders.

“He angers me too,”

Castiel flexes his long fingers.

Dean watches the movement.

“Nice ring,” He murmurs, noticing the silver band on Cas’s left index finger.

“It was my brother’s,”

“Which one?”

“Lucifer,” Castiel sighs.

Dean snorts a little.

“Really?”

“What?”

“You have a brother called _Lucifer_?”

“I _did_ ,” Castiel emphasises. No traces of humour.

In fact he looks pained.

“Oh,”

“He’s not dead,”

Dean nods for a moment.

“At least, I don’t think he is,”

Dean doesn’t really know what to say.

“What happened to him?” Is what he goes for.

“He just sort of… left,”

“And you don’t know why?”

“No,” Castiel concludes abruptly.

Case closed.

But Dean doesn’t quite think that’s the full extent of it.

He’s learning not to push though where Castiel is concerned.

He’s like a pet.

Leave him alone for long enough and he’ll soon start searching for attention.

So that what Dean is kind of doing.

Leaving all matters alone until Castiel _wants_ to bring them up.

Dean doesn’t know whether the control lies with him or with Cas.

Maybe there is no control.

It’s a fucked up thing.

A _horrible_ thing.

“Dean!?”

And it’s not Cas calling.

It’s Sam.

Good old Sammy.

“It’s my brother,” Dean explains, half sure that Castiel already knows that.

There’s a weak knock on Dean’s door before it flies open.

“Dean have you been- oh,”

“Hi,” Castiel greets shortly.

“Hello,”

Dean wants to laugh at the surprise on Sam’s face.

He bites into his cheek instead.

“This is my friend Castiel,” Dean introduces.

Sam remembers the name.

“Nice to meet you,”

Castiel nods his head.

Dean mentally scolds his tendency to disregard manners.

Dean doesn’t move from his position.

Neither does Castiel.

Sam hovers awkwardly in the door way.

“You were going to ask me something?”

Dean’s knows it was going to regard the smell.

“Never mind,” Sam mumbles.                  

But the glare he gives Dean makes it very clear that they _will_ be discussing this later.

Castiel looks amused.

“He’s tall,” Is all the he offers up.

“He eats a lot of salad,”

“Gross,”

Dean snorts ungraciously at that.

“Tell me about it,”

“Speaking of food…”

“You hungry?”

“Ravenous,” Cas grins, pointy white teeth on display.

Something about the way he says it makes Dean shiver involuntarily.

Castiel doesn’t notice.

Or so Dean hopes.

He takes Cas to the kitchen.

Sam is sat at the table.

He’s doing homework.

Nothing new.

He looks up at the two of them.

Then returns to his work.

Castiel sits opposite him.

Dean gets to work on some sandwiches.

He listens closely to the silence.

Castiel begins tapping his cigarette carton on the table top.

“Those are bad for you,” It’s Sam’s voice.

Castiel doesn’t respond immediately.

“Isn’t that the whole point?”

“Why would you _want_ to shorten your life span?”

“Sammy,” Dean warns, as he places a plate in front of Castiel.

He sits down too.

“Death is…inevitable,”

 _Why_ is Cas always so fucking deep?

“Then surely you should make the most of life, no?”

It’s too weird for words.

They’ve only just met and a debate is already ensuing.

“That’s why I’m friends with Dean,” Castiel says bluntly.

Dean doesn’t know whether or not he’s taking the piss.

Sam looks taken aback.

And then he smiles briefly.

“How’ve you been Cas?”

_What the actual fuck?_

“Same old,” He shrugs.

“I’m sorry what?” Dean interrupts.

Sam laughs for a few seconds.

Castiel’s lips twitch.

“I _know_ your brother Dean,” He offers up as an explanation.

Dean is dumfounded.

“ _How_?”

“The book store by dad’s garage,” Sam grins.

“What about it?”

“I used to work there part time for a few months last year,” Cas tells him “Sam was a regular,”

“So that whole initial meeting was a charade?”

“You should have seen your face,” Sam smirks.

“Bitch,” 

“Jerk,”

“Assbutts,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't too out of character for the guys.  
> It all has its part to play.  
> Trust me.


	6. Didn't your mama tell you? Caring is a sign of weakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some pretty descriptive self bodily harm described within this.

Castiel doesn’t get to meet John Winchester.

He decides it’s for the better.

Dean offers for him to stay the night.

But no.

He’s feeling itchy.

And there’s the risk.

That Dean will see them.

His scars.

Because it’s not _his_ environment.

And he doesn’t know if he’s ready for the lack of protection.

He doesn’t like the fact that recently he’s been running around after Dean.

There’s just something about him.

Castiel wants to be close to him.

He’s never felt this want before.

He gags on the cringe of it all.

_“I’m glad Dean’s got a friend like you Cas,”_

Sam had said to him before he had left.

And – _“He really likes you,”_

Castiel thinks he understood undertones from that one.

But he brushes it off.

Because Dean doesn’t like boys.

He’s heard about the Winchester’s many endeavours.

It rouses feelings, _jealousy,_ within him that it hasn’t done prior.

He doesn’t blame himself.

Dean is _very_ attractive.

And Castiel is only a teenage boy.

It doesn’t mean he has to act on it and cause Dean discomfort.

Dean probably, _definitely_ , has the exact same thoughts about most, if not all, the pretty girls in their year.

It’s just one of those things.

Besides, if he can barely hack a friendship, how on earth would he handle a commitment of such terms?

_He wouldn’t._

It’s times like these where the guidance of an older sibling would fare well.

But Castiel would rather sacrifice his soul, what’s left of it, to Satan than listen to Gabriel boast about his sexual prowess.

And though he can’t believe he’s doing this, Castiel actually seeks out Balthazar when he gets home.

Because he deserves some closure on this.

“Where have you been Cassy?” His blonde brother asks upon his arrival.

Gabriel’s reading on the couch.

Balthazar’s eating a sandwich in the kitchen.

“I was with Dean,” He doesn’t bother lying.

It _is_ Dean whom he wishes to converse about.

He ignores the look of annoyance on Balthazar’s face.

“I don’t like you spending time with that boy,”

 “Tough shit,” _I don’t like anything you do._

“His dad caused a lot of trouble for Gabriel work wise,”

“Dean isn’t his father,”

“What is it they say? Like father like son,”

“If that’s true then we’re fucked,”

“From birth,” Balthazar grins wickedly.

Castiel doesn’t reciprocate with any smile.

“Are you and he… an _item_?”

Both older brothers are fully aware of Castiel’s preferences.

“Dean’sa heterosexual,”

“That disappoints you,” Balthazar smugly observes.

“It sure makes you happy,”

“Well I don’t like him,”

“You don’t know him,”

“I like to judge by covers Cassy,”

Castiel stares at him for a moment.

“Listen, I can’t control what, or whom you do. Whether that be Dean Winchester or somebody else,”

Castiel rolls his eyes.

“But, you’re my little brother, and though this relationship may be a dysfunctional one, I do want your happiness,”

Castiel _knows_. He doesn’t like to knowledge it, but he knows its truth.

“Therefore, if it is my unbiased advice that you are after, then I suggest that you just let this pan out,”

“Pan out?”

“Yes, if Dean is interested in that aspect of your relationship then he will make it known,”

Castiel mentally slaps himself as the words pour from between Balthazar’s lips.

“But be warned, if he isn’t used to the whole boy on boy thing then he might freak out about his feelings and reject you. And trust me Cassy, rejection sucks,”

It is an information overload.

And the itch is burning through his skin.

So he nods tightly and makes haste to his room.

Balthazar’s left a little disheartened.

Castiel feels like he’s hyperventilating.

What was he thinking?

Exposing his feelings for Dean to Balthazar.

_His drug addicted brother._

He fumbles through his draws.

His room is dark, moonlight peeking through his window.

He can’t find it.

The _razor._

He’s had so many, but he just keeps losing them all.

Like they go walk about.

But then his hand makes out the thin slice of metal wedged between the pages of a book and he grasps at it.

He pulls his shirt off in haste.

Standing in his jeans he pulls the blade horizontally across his forearm.

It’s shallow.

A warm up.

For the dangerous main event.

He cuts again, drags it deeper through his flesh.

His mind zoning in on the pain.

The only thing that’s real.

One, two, three more times.

Deeper until he’s found the perfect depth.

Deep enough to scar.

He’s covered in them.

Both arms.

Wrists to shoulders.

Whiter than white scars that aluminate his skin.

Bumped up flesh that’ll never heal.

Always horizontal.

Because he doesn’t do it for death.

He tears the wholes, to feel the old familiar sting.

The skin splits easily enough.

Old cuts becoming new

Blood stains the grey carpet.

Trickles down his torso.

He so far gone.

_Why does he always end up here?_

xxxx

 

Let it pan out.

That’s what he’ll do.

At least he wants to.

Dean doesn’t make it easy.

Picking him up early the next day in his smokin’ Chevy.

 _‘To make up for bailing on you yesterday,’_ He explains with a smile.

Castiel doesn’t really have a say in the matter.

Dean doesn’t press for any conversation.

Led Zeppelin plays quietly.

There’s a dull ache covering his arms.

He wants to scratch at the cuts.

He doesn’t.

Because that’s _not_ something to do in front of Dean Winchester.

The scenery blurring past comes to a halt.

They’re not at the high school.

Dean’s pulled off onto a side road.

He shuts off the engine.

There’s silence for a minute.

 “I…need a minute to think,” Dean sighs.

“Now?”

“Yes Cas, now,”

“What’s this all about Dean?”

“ _You,_ ”

Castiel’s jaw clenches.

_What the fuck?_

“You’re bleeding,” He then notes.

It’s true.

Castiel _is_ bleeding.

He’s picked at a cut whilst caught up in a panic of what Dean had planned to say.

There’s blood trickling down his left palm, it splatters onto his jeans.

They’re black.

It doesn’t matter.

“Show me that,” Dean instructs.

He pulls Castiel’s palm towards himself.

His grip makes it impossible for Castiel to pull away before Dean eases his sleeve up his forearm.

_That’s it._

Dean’s eyes are trained on what he can see.

The cut seems to be gushing blood.

Other wounds pepper his skin.

“Cas,” Dean whispers.

He doesn’t let go of his hand.

Castiel looks in horror at his exposed flesh.

Scars and fresh cuts on display.

_Dean knows._

He yanks away from Dean, cradles his wrist to his chest.

“Don’t,” Castiel orders.

“Castiel-”

“Please be quiet Dean,”

He’s breathing heavily.

“Let me take care of it,” Dean offers.

“What?”

“That needs stiches,”

“It’s fine,”

“Jesus, a plaster then,”

Dean leans across him to riffle through the glove compartment.

Castiel can see a sheen of sweat coat the back of his neck.

“Here,” Dean mumbles.

He holds his hand out expectantly.

Castiel lets him put a beige plaster on the cut, before covering the arm with his sleeve.

Out of Dean’s sight.

“Are we going to talk about this?”

“I really don’t want to,” Castiel snaps.

“It’s _me_ Cas,”

“There is nothing to talk about,”

“Screw that,”

“ _Please_ Dean,”

“I’m _not_ going to tell you that you have to stop,” His tone of voice softens.

“Dean,”

“I _care_ about you,” Dean murmurs.

Before he starts up the engine again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the story is slow but I think the pace that has been set is suitable for the plot.


	7. Liar Liar. Can I smell fire?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is a week late! But I had tonnes of coursework. Please forgive me. This is quite short, but I will be making them longer again.

Luncay.

That’s what it is.

The way Dean’s done this.

Dragging him out of school as soon as the final bell sounds.

Buckling him into the passenger seat of the impala and driving the distance to darker haired boy’s home.

“Show me,” He murmurs. “All of them.”

“I-I can’t,” Castiel whispers.

Because it’s true.

And really, _he cannot._

They’re standing face to face, eye contact intact, in the centre of Castiel’s bedroom.

“Cas, _it’s just me_ ,”

“They’re ugly.”

Dean exhales breath.

Castiel can feel it against his gaunt cheeks.

Dean doesn’t respond.

He takes Castiel’s palm warily within his hands.

“It’s okay; you don’t have too,” Dean smiles slightly.

_Yes you do._

He removes himself from Dean, watches as his eyes sadden minutely.

_Do it._

In one fleeting motion Castiel pulls his shirt off and drops it in a pile at his feet.

There’s nothing sexual about the way Dean’s eyes roam over him.

He’s all pale flesh and exposed ribs.

The breeze wafting through the window is cold but his skin feels clammy.

He doesn’t dare look down.

Doesn’t want to see what Dean is seeing.

So he focuses on the freckled cheeks in front of him.

“Goddamit Cas,”

Castiel’s trembling.

No one. _No one,_ has ever seen him like this.

After a long while Dean meets his eyes.

“It’s okay,” He urges. “This is okay.”

_What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

Dean leans forward and _hugs_ him.

Wraps his arms around Castiel’s bare flesh and holds him.           

Castiel isn’t used to such physical contact.

But he allows it.

Partly for his own desire.

Partly to calm Dean.

“Please don’t hurt yourself anymore Cas,” The taller boy mumbles into his shoulder.

“I have to,” He admits.

“No, no you don’t, not like this,” There’s an urgency there.

“You told me that you wouldn’t tell me to stop,” Castiel retorts only slightly angry.

He balls the fabric at the back of Dean’s shirt within his fists.

He doesn’t want to let go.

“I know, _I know_.”

“So don’t.”

“An alternative, there must be an alternative,” Dean _almost_ pleads.

He leans back to look into blue eyes.

Castiel’s jaw clenches before he shakes his head.

“No.”

Dean delicately lets go of him, as if realising their proximity, before stepping away.

It feels an awful lot like rejection.

And just like that Castiel feels over exposed.

He bends to retrieve his shirt before putting it on again.

“Don’t be angry with me Dean,”

“M’not,” He’s standing by the window.

“I’ve tried.”

Dean nods tightly.

“Can I have a smoke?”

“I thought you weren’t doing that?” Castiel takes a seat on his bed.

“ _I’ve tried_ ,” Castiel knows he says it out of frustration, but right now it sounds a hell of a lot like spite.

He stalks up to Dean.

_He wants to hit him._

He almost does.

It’s the pure worry embedded within Dean’s face that changes his mind.

“Fuck letting it pan out,” He mutters.

Dean’s expression alters to that of confusion.

_Castiel kisses him._

Dean mumbles and ‘oh’ against his lips.

Before relaxing and going slack against him.

It takes a moment before he meets Castiel’s kisses with an equal fervour.

There’s a hesitance there.

_Because what on earth is Castiel doing?_

Enjoying the bittersweet taste of Dean’s mouth is what.

A combo of mint and hazelnut.

Dean reaches out to enclose one of his hands around Castiel’s elbow, before both move down to clutch at narrow hips.

His mouth parts against Castiel’s, whose tongue seems to be attempting to feed unnecessary moisture into the pink plushness of Dean’s pretty lips.

Dean pants into him

Castiel swallows the air down.

And then Dean licks into his mouth until it gasps open.

_Holy mother of God._

It’s not at all what he had been expecting.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t go with it.

His hands meet the toned flesh beneath Dean’s shirt.

His stomach feels warm and soft.

Dean’s tongue still in his mouth before he abruptly stops.

“ _Wait-”_ Castiel objects but Dean silences him with a glare.

“What was _that_?”

“I kissed you,” Castiel states dumbly, conscious of the fact that his hands are still attached to Dean’s torso.

“I know that, but _why_?”

“You’re pretty,”

“Jesus Cas, you can’t just go round kissing people,”

Castiel shifts from him, hands firmly by his sides.

“ _Only you_ ,” He mumbles.

“You _shouldn’t_ have done that.”

He wants to make a snide remark about how much Dean had seemed to be enjoying himself.

He doesn’t.

And there it is again.

That pang of rejection.

“You should leave,”

And now it’s Dean’s turn to look hurt.

Castiel’s really gone and done it.

Xxxx

They don’t speak for thirteen says.

Castiel’s scared of tension and all things Dean related.

But when the Winchester comes into school with his arm in a cast, Castiel realises he’s been very selfish.

Because dean’s already suffered enough hurt in his lifetime.

Dean has to walk home.

Castiel takes that as his opportunity to face the green eyed, freckled boy.

He worries momentarily upon realisation that though Dean’s arm may be of no use to him, the injury does not deter his ability to run.

Though he doubts Dean would be _that_ immature.

Who knows?

He’s knows it probably looks like he’s stalking the Winchester, but he has to clear this air.

At home everything is pretty calm it’s just Dean playing on his mind.

Dean’s soft, pretty lips.

Dean’s warm mouth.

Dean’s…

“Why are you following me Cas?”

“What?”

“ _Why_ are you following me?”

“I need to apologise for my behaviour.”

They’re still walking rather quickly, crossing over into a wooded area.

“For kissing me or for kicking me out?”

“Both I guess.”

Dean stops walking.

“You guess?”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,”

“Well then why did you Cas? Because I’ve been really fucking confused about it.”

“I don’t know,”

But of course he does.

“Because if you have some non-platonic feelings for me then now would be a really good time to let me know,”

_I do._

“Dean, I kissed you because I wanted some other form attention, you were looking at my scars and that made me feel uncomfortable, I don’t like you _like that_ ,”

_It’s all lies._

_Castiel has always been a liar._


	8. Show me the way. The way closer to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late again! I really am trying to not let this form into a bad habit. Anyway, here is the next chapter. And thanks for all the support.

“You should tell someone Dean,” Castiel suggests.

They’ve gotten over the awkwardness and ended up back at Dean’s.

“No-no way,” The freckled boy sighs, sprawled on the floor whilst Castiel sits on the edge of his bed.

Castiel doesn’t dare mention the demon kiss.

Nor does Dean.

“I’m not going to force you, it’s just hard for me to stand by and watch you let him hurt you.”

“I have to, at least until Sammy’s goes off to college.”

“He’s fourteen, that’s years away.”

“I’m willing to wait.”

“Dean.”

“Don’t make it a big deal.”

“He broke your arm, it’s a pretty fucking huge deal,” Castiel’s frustrated beyond belief.

Then again who is he to judge?

He hurts _himself._

“What was his reasoning this time?” Castiel snaps agitated.

“Please don’t be pissed at me.”

Castiel doesn’t recognise that tone at all.

Dean isn’t looking at him.

“I’m not.”

“I can’t control him Cas.”

“I know.”

“I can only protect Sam.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

Dean runs two hands down his face.

Castiel watches him.

“You’re a good brother.”

Dean raises an eyebrow at him.

“Take the compliment Dean.”

“Thanks,” His response is a genuine one.

“What does Sam make of all of this, he’s not stupid, and surely he knows what’s going on?”

“I don’t want him worrying about it.”

Castiel nods, because he gets it, he doesn’t like talking about all his personal shit either.

Dean’s looking up at him from his position on the floor.

Castiel swallows down any reminiscence of slick lips and soft kisses.

“How long have you got to wear that thing for?”

It’s small talk.

Castiel hates small talk.

But he hates the idea of pining after Dean more.

“Couple months,” Dean responds slowly, as though mulling over his own thoughts.

His eyes return to Castiel’s face.

“ _What?_ ” The darker haired boy asks, because really it’s not helping with the whole avoiding thinking about smooching war that’s currently waging itself within Castiel.

“Nothing,” Dean defends, but it’s bullshit.

Dean knows it’s bullshit.

And Castiel momentarily panics because he feels like that godforsaken kiss is something Dean will forever hold over him.

“Seriously what is it?”

Dean sits up so that he’s eye level with Castiel’s torso.

“It’s just…I didn’t realise you like boys.”

_And there it is._

“You _do_ like boys right?” Dean enquires.

“I suppose.”

Dean nods once.

“So you’ve _never_ been with a girl?”

He seems genuinely interested.

Castiel doesn’t really want to divulge but he figures he owes it to Dean.

“I’ve fucked girls before.”

It’s blunt and Dean looks surprised by that.

“A lot?”

“A couple.”

_It’s true._

“Doesn’t that make you bisexual?”

“I wouldn’t say bisexual, I mean I’ve slept with a few girls just to see what it would be like.”

“But you didn’t enjoy it?”

“It was fine, but sex with boys is just better for me.”

“So you’ve been with a lot of guys then?”

Castiel doesn’t really comprehend as to why Dean is so interested in this particular topic.

“Some.”

And that’s all he’d rather say on the matter.

He’s not frequently sexually active guy, it’s hard what with all the scars and his overall antisocial personality, but Castiel knows how the whole process works.

 “I get you; everyone at school seems to think I’m a giant slut.” Dean chuckles.

“Are you?”

Dean smirks up at him.

“I don’t care if you are.” Castiel reassures him.

“I wouldn’t say giant.”

Castiel doesn’t need any more than that.

What Dean chooses to do with the female gender is entirely his decision and doesn’t have any impact on how he sees the Winchester.

“I have to give it to you though; you kiss better than any girl I’ve hooked up with.”

Dean’s attempt to make light of that whole shamble rocks Castiel’s very core.

His eyes widen in annoyance and his cheeks flush with heat.

“Can we please forget about that?”

“Been trying for the past two weeks,” Dean mumbles before getting to his feet.

“What was that?”

“You’re excuse for kissing me was shit.”

Now it’s Castiel who’s looking up at Dean.

“It wasn’t an excuse.”

“Usually when someone kisses another person it’s because they want to express some sort of emotion through physical contact.”

“I’m not going to explain it again Dean.”

“You mean you aren’t going to _lie_ about it again?”

Castiel sighs in frustration.

Because really he should have known kissing Dean would have consequences.

“Please don’t make this awkward.”

“It doesn’t have to be, I just need you to be honest with me about it.”

“I told you, I wanted attention.”

“Don’t give me that shit; you’re not the kind of person who seeks out attention Cas.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Tell me the truth.”

Castiel stands readying to leave.

“Is that what you’re going to do again? Push me away?”

“The truth is going to make any difference; you’re still going to reject me.”

“Reject you? I haven’t stopped thinking about your stupid chapped lips for the past thirteen days.”

And that’s not at all what Castiel had been expecting.          

“ _What?_ ”

“You heard me; I’m _so_ gay for you Cas.” Dean snaps.

“And you’re angry at _me_ about that?”

“I’m pissed because you won’t give me a straight answer.”

Castiel recognises that now is not the right time to highlight that pun.

“Jesus, yes okay, I really fucking like you and I really like kissing you, but this, this would never work.”

“Says who?”

“We’re not good for each other Dean.”

“Please stop talking,” And this time it’s Dean who initiates it.

He’s straight in with the tongue, taking Castiel by surprise, his one good hand clasped around the pale wrist.

It’s nothing like their initial lip lock. Dean’s very much in control, his pent up anger released through the hard nips at Castiel’s lower lip.

It’s slightly painful but incredibly hot and Castiel latches his free arm around Dean’s waist, because fuck it, if they’re going to do this he better make the most of it.

The quite is disturbed by their quickened breathing.

Dean’s kisses cause vibrations down Castiel’s throat and he thinks he might faint from the ferocity of it all.

He jaw aches from matching Dean’s pressure and pace, but it’s too good for him to even dare to complain.

Castiel’s tired tongue lies limp in his mouth as Dean’s pushes against it, coaxing it into moving again before Castiel finally caves and gives him what he wants.

With victory claimed, Dean runs several long licks along the roof of his mouth and Castiel groans at the sensation.

Dean’s hand tugs at his hip but the plastered arm stops him from bringing himself and Castiel chest to chest.

He huffs in annoyance into Castiel’s mouth before giving up and pulling away all together.

“Is that going to happen every time you dislike something I have to say?” It comes out in pants and the Castiel cringes at how raw his voice sounds.

“Possibly, maybe even if you say something I _do_ like.”

“We can’t just kiss our problems away.”

“Yes we can.”

“Dean.”

“Talking is too intense.”

“Oh and attacking my mouth with your tongue isn’t.

Dean rolls his eyes.

“You know what I mean; it’s the wrong kind of intense.”

Castiel smiles at him.

Dean’s never really seen one of these smiles.

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t try this out, especially if we’re both interested.”

“You’ve never been with a boy before.”

“So? You have, that means you can show me the ropes.”

“And that’s what you really want?”

“It is.”

“I just don’t want you to agree to this and then freak out half way through.”

“How about this? If either of us feels uncomfortable with the situation we tell each other and return to being friends?”

“It’s not that simple Dean, once feelings get involved things get messy.”

“Feelings are already involved, things are already messy.”

Castiel relents “Okay.”

Dean offers him a sparkly eyes grin.

Before planting tiny kisses on Castiel’s pale cheeks.

xxxx

They decide it’s best for Castiel to leave before John gets home.

The buzz from the kiss still hasn’t faded by the time Castiel gets home.

He lights up a cigarette once he gets through the door much to Balthazar’s dismay.

“Put that out.”

Castiel shakes his head, inhaling profusely.

“Prat.” His older brother scolds, but he doesn’t do anything about it.

Castiel graces him with a middle finger.

“Where have you been?”

“Out.” He states bluntly.

“I know that fuck face.”

“I was with Dean.”

“Winchester again? Please tell me you two have touched dicks already.”

Castiel flicks ash against the wall.

“That shit stains.”

“I decided not to take your advice.”

“So you made a move?”

“ _Two weeks ago_.”

“And how did that work out for you?”

“We’re together I guess.”

Balthazar smirks a little at that, before pulling the shrinking cigarette from Castiel.

“Go study or something.”


	9. Is it sick to say that I can relate?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crammed in another update to make up for the one that I missed. enjoy!

Balthazar leaves again and it wrecks everything.

_“Stuff.”_

He has fucking stuff he needs to attend to.

Castiel knows that that really translates into ‘I’m off for 5 days to shoot up.”

Usually it doesn’t bother him.

But he’s reluctant to admit that having Balthazar around puts him at ease.

Because Castiel _does_ need somebody and Gabriel just doesn’t always cut it.

So when his blonde brother up and outs again it hits Castiel almost as hard as the thought of Dean rejecting him.

Dean’s great.

And pretty.

And his lips are soft.

But he’s hurting too and Castiel can’t put anymore unnecessary pressure on him.

So yeah, sometimes he needs Balthazar.

Gabriel does too.

What’s worse is that Castiel worries.

Worries that Balthazar will push himself too far and overdose.

He’s always worrying.

And judging himself for it.

The excuses are the same.

“We need money.” and “Gabriel can’t provide for the three of us on his own.”

Castiel reads between the lines.

_I need to feed the addiction._

_Understand that I have needs._

He can’t control anyone.

Thus he watches Balthazar leave for the umpteenth time.

“Don’t look so glum.” Gabriel pats his bony shoulder as they both stand in the narrow hallway.

Castiel rolls his eyes.

It’s becoming another bad habit.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“I’m giving myself a late start,” Castiel snaps.

Maybe he won’t go in at all.

Although seeing Dean would make him feel better about things.

“It’s my day off.”

Gabriel works four days a week at an automobile shop.

It’s doesn’t pay as well as his old shifts down at John Winchester’s garage but the environment sure seems a hell of a lot nicer from what Castiel’s picked up on.

Gabriel never did mention what it was that got him the sack.

He thinks it may have been the fact that both his brother and employer had been pissed out of their minds and had forgotten to lock up. Of course this resulted in two cars being stolen along with a large sum of money.

That _had_ been somewhat of a scandal in a town as small as this.

John didn’t like the publicity and uproar it caused and Gabriel seemed to be on the receiving end of his wrath.

This was only a potential theory that Castiel had.

Although he was almost certain that it was ninety-five percent, if not completely, accurate.

“Go to school Cassy.”

“I need money for smokes.”

“You spent it all already?”

Castiel shrugs, he’s been consuming more and more lately.

“Fine.” Gabriel sighs although he in no way condones the activity.

Castiel holds out his hand to receive the notes but Gabriel holds them back momentarily.

“Are you fucking Dean Winchester?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Maybe you can stop being such a sassy cunt and we can have a normal conversation for one minute?”

Castiel glares at his older yet shorter brother.

“His daddy is trouble Cassy; I don’t want you around that.”

He almost scoffs at the hypocrisy of it.

“Screw the kid if you want, but I’d rather you do it here.”

“Gabriel please stop talking.”

“I mean it, bring Dean here if you want to see him, probably be good for the kid to get away from that shit for a couple hours.”

The sentence almost sheds some sort of white light over life and Castiel recognises that Gabriel probably knows more about John’s aggression that he lets on.

Castiel almost feels out of the loop.

Like the whole towns known about it.

_They don’t._

But that’s what it feels like.

It’s Gabriel’s sincerity that makes Castiel think twice about his late start.

He snatches the money from Gabriel’s palm and goes to pull on some clean jeans.

“You’re welcome!” Gabriel calls after him.

xxxx

He stops worrying about his brothers and starts worrying about Dean.

Because he isn’t in Chemistry first period and Dean’s always actually surprisingly punctual.

Relief dawns on Castiel when Dean strolls in during the second hour, a sheepish smile on his face.

Their teacher flashes him a sympathetic smile and Castiel thinks that again maybe everyone does know about John.

“Where were you?”

Castiel asks because he feels he needs to.

Needs to know Dean isn’t currently bruising someplace new.

“I overslept and walking is long.”

It’s not a lie.

But it doesn’t confirm that he’s not currently bruising.

“You should come home with me today.”

He’s taking into account what Gabriel had said earlier.

“Why?”

Dean looks genuinely surprised at the request.

“Well why not?”

_I want to protect you._

“Okay.” Dean nods and that’s pretty much all that is said for the remainder of the hour.

xxxx

When they get to Castiel’s house it’s empty.

Castiel’s gut drops because Gabriel isn’t working and therefore must be knee deep in alcoholic beverages.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

Castiel doesn’t give Dean the chance to disagree.

He’s ushering him towards his room without hesitation.

Dean goes willingly if not a little slowly.

As if it’s even possible Castiel’s room seems darker and smaller and the strong smell of tobacco is enough to burn anyone’s nostrils.

Dean’s less nervous this time, doesn’t loiter in the middle.

Castiel’s bed is unmade and there are about three black shirts strewn across it.

Castiel stretches his arms above his head for all of five seconds before sitting next down on the mattress next to Dean.

 He laces their fingers together.

Dean looks down at the contrast of pale and tanned flesh.

“So we’re still doing this?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah.”

“I thought maybe you’d change your mind.”

“You need to stop doubting yourself.”

“I don’t.”

_He does._

Castiel doesn’t comment on it though.

“Tell me something about you.”

It’s the same thing Dean had asked him a couple of weeks back.

Dean shrugs “Like what?”

“Anything.”

“I think about dying a lot.”

_Trust Dean to go in deep as hell._

Castiel senses he’s not finished.

“Not like killing myself, just what the world would be like if I died.”

“I get you,” Castiel murmurs.

He thinks about that a lot too.

He thinks about Balthazar dying.

He thinks about Gabriel dying.

Dean runs his thumb over the length of Castiel’s own.

He continues with the action.

“How does it turn out?” Castiel asks, because he really needs to know if Dean values himself as much as he should.

“ _Sammy_ , he wouldn’t take it too well I don’t think.”

“And what about me, how would I take it?”

Dean gives him a small smile.

“You’d get over it.”

_He’s so wrong._

“I don’t think I would.”

Dean sighs. “It doesn’t matter anyway, I’m not going anywhere.”

Castiel really doesn’t think he can stomach another person leaving him.

“Dean?”

“Yeah Cas?”

“You don’t need to answer this but, how did your mom die?”

Dean’s thumb comes to a halt.

He clears his throat “Fire.”

Castiel doesn’t press any the matter.

“I was four, Sam was just a baby.”

“You don’t need to tell me.”

Dean ignores him.

“It was a fucking lavender scented candle that started it.”

“ _Dean._ ”

He’s getting worked up thinking about it.

“My dad made me carry Sam out, but he-he couldn’t save her.”

“It’s okay.” Castiel soothes, pulling his hand away to place it on Dean’s back.

“Sorry.” Dean mumbles attempting to even his breathing.

“Do you miss her?”

“That’s the worst part, I mean, I was four, I don’t remember her all that well.”

Castiel _wishes_ he could forget his mother.

 “My mom drowned.”  He offers up. A sick condolence.

It’s the closest thing to the truth he can come up with.

“I know.”

Of course he does.

_Everyone does._

They just don’t know that it was Castiel who pushed her.


	10. I've never been a beggar but baby maybe for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on holiday and now have wifi so mwahahaha more fanfiction :)

Dean has to leave.

Castiel’s tempted to _beg_ the other boy to stay.

_He doesn’t._

Instead he waits up.

But Gabriel doesn’t come home.

And he resists the urge to cut.

Dean calls at 11:47 pm.

“Hey,” He sounds tired.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m waiting for Gabriel.”

There’s silence for a brief moment at the other end of the line.

Castiel regrets his rash decision to be completely honest.

“He’s not home yet?” Dean asks, followed by a breathy yawn.

“No.”

“I should have stayed.”

“It’s fine.”

“He shouldn’t leave you like that, neither of them should.”

“I’m not a child Dean.”

“Even adults get lonely Cas.”

“Not me.”

It’s a lie.

Dean knows it.

“You can talk to me about how you’re feeling.”

Castiel doesn’t.

They talk about how much Dean’s desperate for a smoke and Castiel teases him by sparking one up and over exaggerating about how good it feels.

They talk about school.

About Sam.

Everything bar feelings.

They talk until Dean lets out a loud yawn.

“You should go to sleep.”

“Mhh I should.”

“I’m going.”

“Hey Cas?” He mumbles and Castiel can tell his eyes are closed.

“Yeah Dean?”

“You can tell me all your secrets.”

And it sounds awfully a lot like a line from a song Castiel knows.

He’s quiet for a moment.

It comes out in a whisper before he can stop himself

“I killed her.”

There’s no reply.

Utter silence.

Until Dean lets out a little sigh.

He’s asleep.

And Castiel’s never felt more alone.

 

Xxxx

 

He daydreams about Dean.

It’s nice but sad.

Dean’s dead but so is Castiel and whenever they try to touch neither of them can feel it.

So they give up trying and spend the rest of their afterlife staring at each other.

Castiel’s never been one to have remotely normal daydreams.

He’s strangely affected by this one though.

So much so that the first thing he does when he sees Dean at school is kiss his lips quickly.

It’s chaste but he can definitely feel their softness.

“You okay?” Dean quizzes because this is the first ever public display of affection Castiel has ever dished out.

Castiel nods but swipes his thumb across Dean’s cheek just to make sure he really can feel it all.

Dean’s eyes are warm but cautious.

“Just making sure you’re real is all.”

“Let’s go for a smoke.” Dean offers.

Castiel doesn’t question it, or the fact that they’re going to be missing first period.

Because really, an education is the last thing on his mind right now.

They go where they always do.

Castiel trailing a little behind.

He’s tired and sore.

So he _does_ lean into Dean as they sit on the bench and he _does_ press their knees together.

He fumbles in his jacket pocket before pulling out a crumpled pack.

Lucifer’s lighter feels cold in his hand.

He lights the cigarette hanging from his lips and passes the flame over to Dean.

He’s surprised by how easily Dean manages to cope with just the one working hand.

“So much for quitting,” Dean mumbles as he exhales a puff of smoke.

They’ve been over this _so_ many times that Castiel doesn’t even entertain that conversation anymore.

“You smell good,” He tells the green eyed boy.

It’s true.

“What’s up with you today? Why are you being so nice?”

“I’m too sleepy to be mean.”

“When did you crash last night?”

“I didn’t.”

He doesn’t bother mentioning his dream.

“But seriously, stop it with the compliments, you’re creeping me out,” Dean pretends to shiver.

“I like your eyes.”

Dean doesn’t say anything this time.

“And your freckles.”

More silence.

But he can tell Dean is listening.

“You’re exceptionally pretty and your lips are kind of cool.”

“You done?” Dean questions, but he pushes his knee harder into Castiel’s.

 “I want to kiss you.” Castiel sighs after taking a long pull.

“Go for it.”

Castiel cranes his head; he’s already close enough to connect their lips, so he does.

Yes they both taste like cigarettes, and yes they’re both groggy, Castiel especially, but it’s probably the nicest kiss they’ve shared and Castiel savours it.

“Just so you know,” Dean smiles once they’re done “You don’t need to ask.”

_Castiel ought to remember that._

“Do you like it?” He asks after a moment, he’s moved onto his second cigarette, offering another to Dean who politely declines.

“Like what?”

“Kissing a boy.”

“I like kissing you, but I don’t think I’d like to kiss any other dudes.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not attracted to guys, at least not normally.”

“But you _are_ attracted to me?”

“Obviously.”

Castiel finishes up his smoke.

“Let’s go.”

“Second period doesn’t start for another twenty minutes.”

“Not to class, my place.”

Dean looks reluctant.

“I’m not going to maul you Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes a little.

“I’m going,” Castiel states before standing.

_And I’d rather you come with me._

He’s becoming too attached already.

Too attached to Dean and the release he provides.

It’s always been said that most damaged people become easily dependent.

“Wait for me.”

Castiel knows it’s the answer he wants but his gut flips and he worries because that’s what he does best.

It’s because of Dean and also Gabriel and Balthazar.

But Dean’s here and he _cares_ about Castiel so he focuses on that because who wouldn’t.

He doesn’t think twice before extending his hand towards Dean’s and lacing their fingers together.

That’s always been another of Castiel’s problems.

Once he’s willing to commit to something he throws himself into the deep end.

He’s done it with everything.

Smoking.  
Cutting.

His sexuality.

And now Dean.

 

Xxxx

 

The awkwardness that initially came with Dean’s presence in Castiel’s room has gone.

It’s nice but unnerving all at once and Castiel doesn’t know if it’s a good thing.

Gabriel _still_ isn’t home.

Castiel chooses not to worry about it because it’s not fair.

Not fair that his brothers get to ruin yet another thing without even coming into contact with it.

They lie shoulder to shoulder on Castiel’s bed.

“You should sleep,” Dean tells him, hands clasped on his stomach.

He doesn’t want to sleep.

“I’d rather touch you.”

There’s a silence and Castiel revels in it.

“Is that why you brought me here? To have your wicked way with me?”

Dean chuckles briefly but there’s an anxious air about it.

“Maybe.”

_It’s not._

But the more that they discuss it the more of an option it seems to be becoming.

Dean unclasps his hands.

It’s _almost_ comical to watch.

That is until he’s sitting up and unbuckling his belt.

“Touch me,” He whispers

It’s deadly serious and Castiel feels his skin flush at the idea.

And it’s definitely happening because Castiel’s turning to sit opposite him, tucking his bent knees under Dean’s.

He shuffles forward and places languid kisses along a freckled cheek.

He’s wary of Dean’s broken arm, the fact that it’s tender and very much in the way.

Castiel’s palms are flat against the other boy’s knees.

He skims them over denim clad thighs, letting them rest at the loosened metallic buckle.

He wants to be reassured that this is what Dean wants.

But he keeps in mind the idea that it was Dean who made the situation very much real.

It’s all the reassurance he needs before pressing his hand beneath the rough material and flat against the other boy.

It’s warm and the cupping position hurts his knuckles.

He pulls the hardening cock out and lets it slap against its owner’s thigh.

Dean hisses at the action but his hips rock towards Castiel and he takes it as encouragement to touch him properly.

He doesn’t have anything to lubricate his hand with, so he licks his palm twice swiftly before wrapping it around Dean’s erect penis.

He’s as big as Castiel had thought he would be, with a circumcised head flushing red at the rush of blood.

“Would you just fucking move already,” Dean half snaps at him.

Castiel smirks a little before obliging.

His movements are slow but his fist is tight.

Dean’s eyes droop shut and he leans his head forwards to rest against Castiel’s shoulder.

Castiel quickens his pace, twisting over the head to see if it’s something Dean enjoys.

His soft groans seem to signify that, yes; it’s something he _does indeed_ appreciate.

Castiel thumbs the slit, it’s leaking precome which he happily uses for leverage.

He strokes Dean faster, his fist starting to hurt.

On one hand he wants Dean to just come already but on the other he doesn’t want it to end.

Not when Dean is panting so prettily against him and rocking his hips up into Castiel’s palm.

The sight alone is enough to have Castiel feeling a strain against his own black jeans.

“Fuck.” Dean murmurs into his shoulder, before lifting his head and peppering kisses against Castiel’s exposed collar bone.

Castiel tightens his grip, hard enough to have Dean biting at his skin in a beg for release.

“I need to-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Castiel twists at the head one last time and Dean comes with his lips on pale skin.

He comes for what _seems_ like ages against Castiel’s hand, bed sheets and their clothes.

They don’t move.

“Jesus,” Dean exhales.

“Not quite,” Castiel smiles before kissing Dean’s lips once just for the sake of it.

Dean’s come is quickly cooling and drying but he couldn’t care less.

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Castiel whispers, the adrenaline high still pulsing through him.

He’s hard as hell but he doesn’t mention that to Dean.

Only it’s not that easy to hide and Dean notices anyway.

“I can-”

“No, no,” Castiel interrupts quietly “I don’t want you to touch me.”

“Oh,” Dean looks hurt at that.

“I don’t mean it that way,”

“Honestly it’s fine.”

“Of course I _want_ you to, just not now, this was about you.”

“We’re equals Castiel.”

“I don’t want to think about myself right now, I’m letting you be selfish.”

“Can I at least kiss you?”

“Why don’t we get cleaned up first?”

Dean nods his head; he still looks a little dazed.

Castiel grins internally at the effect he’s had on him.

They splash some cold water over their clothes but in reality it’s all a bit pointless.

They’re both wearing dark colours and the white streaks don’t fade much.

Castiel flips over his duvet cover; he’ll change it later if he can remember.

His erection has pretty much gone by the time they’re situated back on his bed.

It threatens to return when they share several kisses.

It doesn’t matter though, because Dean has to leave _again._

It’s pretty inevitable really.

Castiel can sense Dean’s a little hurt at the whole ‘don’t touch me’ thing, and Castiel’s a little hurt at the whole ‘I gotta go’ thing.

So in actuality they’re even.

And Castiel doesn’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.

He doesn’t dwell on it though.

Instead he closes his eyes and replays touching Dean in his head.

 

Xxxx

 

When Balthazar comes home two days later Castiel’s worry descends into panic.

Because Gabriel isn’t here, he hasn’t been to work and he’s not the bender brother.

“ _Gabriel’s missing_ ,” It’s the first thing he tells Balthazar.

“What?”

“Gabriel is gone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Cassy.”

“He hasn’t been home in _days_.”

“Have you tried calling him?” Balthazar looks like death.

Castiel rolls his eyes.

“What do you think?”

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Fucking hell, Gabriel’s missing and all you can care about is getting high.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is, that’s all you care about you selfish bastard.”

“You don’t get it; you’re too wrapped up in your own head to understand anything.”

“Too wrapped up? Too fucking wrapped up.” He bites out a bitter laugh and it takes all his strength not to hit Balthazar square in the face. “Look at me, look at what you and Gabriel do to me.”

Before he can stop himself, Castiel pulls up his sleeve and presents the healing cuts to Balthazar.

He can see the realisation hit his brother like a tonne of bricks.

“Castiel-”

“Shut your mouth.”

“Aren’t we going to talk about this?”

 “ _Just find Gabriel_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm terrible at smut :/


	11. I don't care, we can make it if we try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blahaha here is more :)

When Gabriel does turn up it’s in hospital three days later.

“You should really go and visit him,” Dean suggests but Castiel isn’t having any of it.

They’re sat in the school library during a free period.

 It’s raining.

“He deserves _everything_ he gets.”

“He’s your brother Cas, you’re bound to care about him.”

Castiel exhales a shallow breath before speaking.

“Balthazar knows.”

“About what?”

“The self-harming,” he whispers, his hand raking through his black hair.

“How did he take it?”

“I haven’t spoken to him about it.”

“Is that really the best option?”

“I’m so angry with them Dean.”

“I get it.”

“You know, sometimes I think about what it would be like, one of them dying.”

Dean shuffles forward in his chair.

“Gabriel isn’t going to die, at least not yet.”

“Maybe it would be for the best,”

“Don’t say that Cas,”

“Fuck I need a smoke.”

Dean ignores the statement.

“I’ll come with you,”

“For a cigarette?”

“To the hospital.”

“I told you, I’m not going,”

“You’ll feel better.”

“And what makes you think I want to feel _better_?”

“Whatever Cas, either way you’re going to be pissy.”

Castiel rolls his eyes once and then twice.

He leans across the table to close the gap between them.

“You _could_ give me blow job.” He whispers against Dean’s freckled cheek.

He imagines Dean’s eyes going wide at the suggestion even though they probably don’t.

“How about we go to the hospital and _then_ I blow you.”

Castiel laughs a little, amazed at how one minute they’re talking about his brother dying and the next about Dean sucking Castiel’s cock.

“I won’t be in the mood later on.”

Dean’s smile is a genuine one.

“I can’t believe you’re exploiting me like this.”

“I thought you wanted to touch me?”

“I do, _a lot_.”

“Good.”

Castiel stands, his shirt riding up as he does so, revealing a slither of white flesh.

“You coming?”

He can tell Dean wants to make a snarky comment along the lines of ‘you will be’ but he wisely chooses not to voice it.

It’s one of _those_ libraries, with endless rows of books that nobody really uses but look all fancy.

Perfect for this sort of _thing_.

Castiel comes to a halt in a far corner.

“Here?” Dean asks incredulous.

“Well why not?”

He doesn’t really care about getting caught and this is far more hygienic than the boys’ bathrooms.

Dean shrugs, and Castiel’s sure it’s because he himself has received head in the school library before.

“On your knees,” He quips and to be honest he doesn’t really know what’s gotten into himself.

It’s Dean’s turn to roll his eyes but he does as he’s told.

Castiel can already feel his arousal building at the prospect of having Dean’s mouth on him.

Dean’s head levels with his belly button and Castiel feels slightly sorry for him because craning his neck is going to hurt like a bitch.

Dean doesn’t know that though.

Castiel doesn’t give him any help at all.

He likes to watch other people at work.

His jeans are a snug fit so he hasn’t had to bother with a belt, which is a good thing because cold metal during a warm blow job is not something Castiel enjoys.

Dean adjusts himself on his knees before unhooking the button in one swift motion.

It only takes a little tug for the zipper to follow.

Castiel really admires how well Dean works with just one hand in use.

His jeans are pulled down enough to expose his semi hard dick to the dry air of the library.

Dean stares at it for a moment, Castiel’s cock probably bigger than what he had in mind.

He gulps prettily before gripping at Castiel’s exposed hip bone.

It’s only a second later that his mouth follows suit, only it doesn’t come into contact with his hipbone, but the tip of Castiel’s penis.

He’s not expecting much, given that this is the first time Dean’s ever had another man’s dick in his mouth.

But Dean is full of surprises and as he licks a hot stripe from head to base Castiel can tell this is probably going to be the most thorough blow job he’s ever received in his life.

Dean finally closes his lips around him and sweet Jesus he almost comes with only half his dick wet.

He sucks the head hard and Castiel lets out a little yelp.

Dean looks up at him through his lashes innocently.

Castiel places his palms flat against the books behind him, he can feel the dust already gathering on his fingers but then Dean is taking more of him down and rubbing his tongue so delicately against Castiel’s flesh that his eyes roll back into his head.

His erection comes into contact with the back of Dean’s throat and he curses every God imaginable because of course Dean just happens not to have a gag reflex.

His cheeks hollow out as he keeps the tip there and sucks sharply for several seconds.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Castiel can’t help but murmur as Dean’s thumb rubs constant circles into his pelvis.

He pulls his mouth off of Castiel and inhales a deep breath before repeating the prior sucking action and the purposeful scrape of his pearly white teeth has Castiel coming with a groan before he can stop himself.

Dean pulls back a little surprised, come staining his chin and shirt.

He licks up what he can.

“You’ve done that before,” Castiel breathes, trousers still around his thighs.

He can’t believe he’s just jizzed.

He’d be embarrassed if it hadn’t of felt so good.

Dean uses the shelf behind him to get to his feet.

Castiel feels light headed, but reaches down to make himself decent.

“Was that okay?” Dean asks, but if his smirk is anything to go by he knows it was fucking amazing.

“Shut up,” Castiel snaps, but he leans forward to kiss Dean painfully hard against his swollen lips.

“Hospital,” Dean sighs.

And Castiel can’t say no because Dean’s lived up to his end of the bargain.

 

Xxxx

 

Gabriel hasn’t suffered from alcohol poisoning.

He’s been beaten to a _pulp_.

Three broken ribs.

Fractured jaw.

Broken collar bone.

Internal bleeding.

Castiel _almost_ feels bad for him.

Dean stays in the waiting room.

Balthazar is already sat in one of the chairs by Gabriel’s side.

He’s unconscious, numerous tubes sticking out of him at all angles.

“Castiel,” Balthazar greets, he looks red eyed and tired.

Gabriel has never looked so small, so broken.

Castiel can’t help but feel that this is partially his fault.

“You should have been here,” He blames Balthazar too.

“I know.”

“Does this have something to do with the drugs, do you owe someone money?”

Balthazar’s eyes narrow.

“You don’t know do you?”

“What?”

“When they brought him in here, he was saying this was John Winchester’s doing.”

Castiel’s gut drops and his mind drifts to Dean waiting down the hall.

_John Winchester._

He doesn’t want to be angry but he is, because now this is two people he cares about that John Winchester has hurt.

“I’ll talk to Dean.”

“Aren’t you listening to me? I don’t want you anywhere near that family.”

“I’m not a child.”

“No, but you are my brother and it is my responsibility to look after you.”

“What about our brother who’s lying in the hospital bed, why don’t you try looking after him for once.”

“Castiel,” Balthazar sighs, but he knows it’s pointless, because nothing is going to keep his youngest brother from Dean.

“Just stay with him okay?”

Balthazar nods.

Castiel casts his gaze upon Gabriel one last time and his heart actually aches.

“I haven’t forgotten by the way,” The blonde brother speaks “We still need to talk about what you showed me at some point.”

The dark haired boy clenches his jaw tightly; it’s an impending conversation for sure.

 

Xxxx

 

Castiel smokes three cigarettes at the hospital entrance, it’s still raining but he’s stopped caring.

Dean stands by his side, fiddling with his jacket; he’s trying to quit the smokes again.

“How is he?”

Castiel throws the third cigarette stub into a forming puddle.

“Shit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it wasn’t you who beat him bloody.”

“Do they know who it was? Or at least why they did it?”

Castiel stares at the ground.

He has two options.

Lie and deal with the repercussions of this action later on, or be honest and risk the chance of losing Dean who is bound to be guilt ridden.

“ _No clue_.”

Gabriel’s his brother but he’s falling in _love_ with Dean.

It’s another family betrayal.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Dean asks softly, his wet hair beginning to flatten.

Castiel shakes his head.

“You go if you need to.”

“I don’t want to leave you on your own.”

“I’m a big boy Dean.”

“Cas, come on.”

“What?”

“You can talk to me.”

“I don’t want to _talk_ about it Dean.”

_Talking always ends badly._

“Do something, anything.”

“You know what I do,” Castiel sighs.

He’s referring to the cutting.

“Anything but that Cas, please.”

Castiel can feel himself crumbling.

Dean picking away at the cracks.

“There’s so much you don’t know about me Dean.”

“Then tell me.”

“You won’t understand.”

“How can I if you don’t let me in?”

And before he can open his mouth to speak Dean is kissing him.

Open mouthed kisses that hold promise.

_I like you Cas, I like you a lot._

xxxx

Dean ends up talking the bus home.

Castiel prefers it that way.

He needs some time alone.

He’s hungry and tired.

The house is quiet, but it’s different, because he knows that neither brother is going to be home anytime soon in a foul state.

He eats some cereal but his taste buds are weak.

He showers under lukewarm water.

He tries sleeping but it’s useless so he smokes the rest of his pack and thinks about Dean.

It’s three am when the doorbell rings.

He rubs at his eyes as he pads his way down the stairs at a leisurely pace.

_Balthazar can wait._

He unlocks the front door.

When it’s pulled open he doesn’t see his blonde brother.

It’s a bruised Dean.

 

xxxx

 

They’re both in Castiel’s bed twenty minutes later.

Dean’s eye a darkening purple.

“I don’t think I can do it anymore Cas,” Dean sighs, and Castiel wants to cry just looking at him, arm in a cast, face swollen.

“I know.”

And really he does.

Castiel’s throat contracts.

“My mother used to hurt me too,” It comes out in a whisper but he needs to say it, let Dean know that he’s not alone.

Dean doesn’t say anything but his eyes are on Castiel’s face.

“This is going to sound disgusting but I was actually _happy_ when she died.”

“It’s okay Cas.”

“The lake was frozen-”

And Castiel doesn’t know if he should do this but he does.

“I had to defend myself.”

He studies Dean’s face, searching for something, _anything_.

“What do you mean?”

“I pushed her away, and she fell onto the ice.”

He says it slowly but there’s such clarity to it.

Dean swallows.

“It’s not your fault.”

It’s not at all what he had been expecting.

“Yes it is,” He sits up, he’s confused by this.

“No, no it isn’t.”

“I didn’t save her Dean,” His voice is adamant.

“That doesn’t matter Castiel.”

“How can you say that? Why aren’t you rejecting me?”

“Because I _care_ aboutyou.”

“I know but-”

Dean hushes him with a kiss, and then two more.

“You should get some sleep Cas.”

“I can’t-”

“Just try, for me?”

And he does because fuck it, he’s in _love_ with Dean.

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Tight skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Gabriel will be coming up soon I promise :)

Castiel doesn’t sleep all that much.

It’s impossible, even with the warmth of Dean’s body by his side.

He’s awake an hour later.

Dean’s head rests against his chest, it’s heavy and slightly uncomfortable but it’s _Dean_ , and that’s all that Castiel can process right now.

The fact that Dean is still here, Dean who knows all his secrets and has seen all his scars.

He doesn’t deserve him, but on the other hand he’s not willing to give him up.

So maybe he’s selfish for ever having pulled Dean into this.

Because he knows for sure he won’t be letting him go anytime soon.

He runs the tips of his fingers along the taller boy’s forehead and wonders how on earth he fell so hard?

 

Xxxx

 

Dean’s still sleeping when Balthazar walks into Castiel’s room.

His eyes narrow at the sight of the boy.

He doesn’t say anything other than

“We should talk now,” And Castiel knows he has no other choice but to oblige.

He heads down to the kitchen with a lingering backward glance at freckled cheeks.

Balthazar looks like crap and Castiel can’t help but hope he feels the same way.

There’s a moment within which they’re both silent before his blonde brother begins to speak.

“Gabriel’s doing well.”

“Has he woken up?”

“No, not yet,” And there’s a tremor in Balthazar’s voice that indicates he probably won’t be waking anytime soon.

“This is so fucked up,” Castiel sighs because it is and he’s had enough of keeping his mouth shut.

“What’s fucked up is lying in your bed.”

Balthazar’s one to talk.

“This isn’t his fault.”

“I take it you didn’t tell him that Gabriel’s in hospital because of John.”

Castiel swallows.

“I can’t.”

“I’m not going to make you choose between us Castiel; I know what it’s like to be in love.”

He doesn’t deny it.

“I’ve only just realised how much actual pressure Gabriel and I have been putting you under.”

“Balthazar-”

“I’m so very sorry that it had to come to that for me to actually see it.”

He’s talking about the harming, there’s no doubt about that.

Balthazar’s voice quietens.

 “Am I the first person you’ve told?”

Castiel shakes his head.

“Dean?” His brother asks.

“Yeah,” And Balthazar looks a little hurt at that.

“When was the last time that you…?”

“It’s irrelevant.”

“Sorry,” He says with a shake of his head “I’m just trying to understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand, it’s an addiction, just like alcohol and drugs.”

“I think we’re all a bit screwed,” Balthazar breathes and it’s an attempt to make light of the situation.

It’s also an indication that this is over for the time being.

 

Xxxx

 

“Morning,” Dean smiles lightly when Castiel walks back into the room.

“Hey, how long have you been awake?” He sits on the foot of the bed.

“Not long.”

Castiel nods his head once.

There is quiet until Dean shuffles over and sits next to him.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers, his shoulder leaning into Castiel’s.

Castiel almost wants to laugh because to be honest it’s a stupid question.

“I need to tell you something.”

He can feel Dean tense beside him, his good hand scratching at his knee.

“What is it?”

Castiel looks down at his own legs.

“I think I love you.”

Dean doesn’t respond for what seems like forever.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He lets out a breathy laugh “Jesus Cas, I thought you were going to tell me to piss off.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well… surprise.”

He squeezes Cas’s knee.

“I think I might love you too, who knows?”

Castiel glares at him before Dean’s kissing him and they say no more about it.

 

Xxxx

 

“Let me guess, you need to go?”

Dean shoots him a sorry look.

“Please stay?” And it’s whispered so that Castiel almost doesn’t believe he’s said it.

Dean brushes away black hair from Castiel’s forehead.

“I want to.”

“I’m being selfish.”

“I don’t mind it.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you can’t stay.”

“I need to make sure Sammy is okay.”

_Sam._

How could Castiel forget?

“You should check up on your brother too.”

He’s been pushing the thought of Gabriel to the back of his mind.

His chest tightens at the idea of Dean going back to John.

“Dean.”

“Yeah Cas?”

“Can you tell me that everything is going to be alright?”

Dean stops to look at him, his eyes softer than Castiel’s ever seen them.

“Everything is going to be fine,” He smiles lightly.

And Castiel takes it.

Because he needs to be lied to right now.

 

Xxxx

 

Gabriel doesn’t wake up when Castiel stops by.

His mood is lower and he can’t seem to bring himself out of it.

He feels like the future is clouded because he can’t see his purpose anymore.

Doesn’t want to be _here_ anymore.

It’s all unknown and he can’t pretend to be happy.

He’s just a placid shell.

And _nothing_ is fine.

He’s broken.

Gabriel is broken.

Balthazar is broken.

Dean is broken.

It’s pretty inevitable what’s coming.

It’s been too long without it.

So yeah, he does cut little patterns into his wrists when he gets home because it’s all he has.

Maybe it’s the greatest sense of relief he’s felt in days, so much so that he carves question marks into his left thigh.

He thinks that if he does lose Gabriel then at least he still has this.

His own skin.

 

Xxxx

 

Balthazar clears the house of all alcohol.

Castiel doesn’t say anything about it.

That is until he notices that certain sharp objects have disappeared.

“Where are all the bread knives?”

“I’ve put them away.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“You really think I’d hurt myself with a bread knife?”

“I don’t know what you’d hurt yourself with.”

“Exactly, because you never asked.”

“I’m just trying to do the sensible thing.”

“Might as well take all the cutlery, wouldn’t want me to spoon my eye out.”

“Castiel.”

“What?” And he snaps because he feels like Balthazar is patronising him.

“I’m going to need all of your razors too.”

“Fine.”

He hands them all over.

All except one.

 

Xxxx

 

He and Dean skip school again.

Dean claims he’s too tired for the extra stress.

Castiel knows it’s because he doesn’t want to have to explain yet another bruise.

They spend most of the day riding the bus through town until it’s late enough to head back.

Dean asks him to come back to his.

Castiel says yes because being with Dean is like taking a happy pill.

Sam’s there.

_John isn’t._

“Hey Cas,” The younger boy greets.

There’s a pretty blonde girl sat next to him.

“This is Jess,” He smiles brightly and Castiel only needs to look at the way she’s staring doe eyed at him to know that she’s probably his girlfriend.

“Nice to meet you,” She grins and Castiel can see the shine of silver braces on her teeth.

He nods at them both before Dean’s dragging him down the hall.

The green eyed boy is stripping out of his jacket and shirt before Castiel even gets the door shut behind him.

“You okay there?”

“Hmmm? Oh, my arm’s been bugging me.”

“And here I thought you were attempting to seduce me.”

“Do I look like the seductive type?” Dean smirks.

“Guess not,” Castiel shrugs

Even though Dean’s doing a pretty good job of being so, stretched out on the bed with the only clothed part of his body being his dangly legs.  

He’s hot even with the broken arm and swollen eye.

“Are you going to stand there all night?”

“Maybe.”

“Well then this was a waste of an invite.”

Castiel cranes his head before pulling his own jacket off.

He leaves it to lie on the floor because screw it, he’s a lazy fuck.

He kicks his boots off and sits cross legged next to Dean.

The bed is small so his knee digs into Dean’s ribs.

“You don’t need to keep this on,” Dean murmurs reaching over to tug at Castiel’s long sleeve.

“Yeah I do.”

Dean pushes the sleeve slowly up Castiel’s arm before he can stop him.

“Fuck Cas,” He breathes upon seeing the new marks.

“Sorry,” Castiel mumbles and he can’t look at Dean.

Warm lips press to his wrist and his breath catches in his throat.

“Don’t.”

Dean lets him pull his arm away.

“When are you going to stop being so afraid of letting me touch you?”

“I’m not afraid; you just deserve to touch something perfect.”

“I don’t want perfect,” Dean sighs “I want you.”

The bed beside Castiel dips as Dean shuffles to sit up.

He leans forward to kiss the soft skin of Castiel’s neck.

“You’re not a bad person Cas,” Dean tells him with one last peck before he’s leaning with his back against the wall.

“I killed my own mother,” He grits out and there’s a moment of silence before Dean speaks.

“I’d kill John if I could.”

Castiel huffs out a puff of air because he knows it’s true.

He huffs out another for the sake of it.

“Do you want this Cas? I mean I thought you did but lately-”

“Of course I do, you know I do.”

“Then what it is?”

“Look at me Dean, I’m a mess.”

“It’s not always going to be like this.”

 “You don’t know that.”

Dean grits his teeth together once before letting his mouth go slack again.

“I just want to make you happy.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Stop it, stop it with this whole _deserve_ thing, you don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t be with.”

“I’m a liar Dean, I’ve lied to my family and I’ve lied to you.”

“Then be honest with me now, tell me all the truths you want.”

“I don’t want you to reject me.”

Dean smiles weakly at him.

“I’m not going to do that to you.”

Castiel stands, he paces the room, pulls a crumpled cigarette packet out of his tight jean pocket and lights it up.

He looks at the heavy metal lighter in his hand.

“Lucifer was always my favourite brother; he was just one of those people you know? Exuded confidence but had this rebellious streak that I always sort of envied. And he was our mother’s pride so his acceptance felt like hers even if she did despise me.”

Castiel exhales a smoky breath but he doesn’t look at Dean because if he’s going to be completely honest it needs to be done now.

“I think I was like thirteen when he told me he was going to get a tattoo, I laughed the idea off because our mother would have his throat, so instead he decided to get his nipple pierced. When she found out she threated to rip it from his chest if he didn’t take it out immediately. I think it was the first time he ever saw that side to her, the one I had to deal with my whole life and I thought, finally, someone else can see how cruel she is.”

Dean’s watching him, doesn’t care that ash is dropping to his floor.

“But it didn’t change anything, it was like he just pretended it didn’t happen and he never mentioned it. He just stood by and let her destroy me. And I think it was then that his ranking within my mind just lowered because I was his little brother and he was choosing to protect himself over me.”

He stubs the cigarette out with his toe.

“But when she died, Lucifer was there, and it was like he was finally free of something, his eyes glazed over as she turned this delicate shade of pale blue and he took me away from it. It took her death for him to realise I needed his help, and that’s why he’s gone, I’m the reason that he doesn’t keep in contact with any of us.”

“Would you want to see him again?”

Castiel’s head drops as he answers truthfully

“No, I’ve already mourned his loss; I don’t need to do it again.”

“Your other brothers don’t know do they?”

“No.”

_And that’s how it shall remain._

“But Balthazar knows about the cutting?”

“Yeah.”

“Did it start after your mother died?”

Castiel almost laughs because Dean has no idea.

Instead he shakes his head before speaking.

“She… was the one who showed me how to do it, said it would, rid me of my sins.”

Dean’s eyes are blazing into his then and his jaw clenches.

“She never physically hurt me, just taught me to do it to myself.”

Dean doesn’t make him talk anymore after that, just kisses every single one of his scars and promises he won’t ever have to hurt himself again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at my tumblr ThePolishBakerOfPies :)


End file.
